


Give Me Hell

by lilpeachy



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (but you're also kind of a killing machine), (only mentioned), (you're a precious creature and must be protected), Abusive Relationships, After care, Aftermath of Violence, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger Management, Angry Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder, Bathroom Sex, Blood and Gore, Body Worship, Borderline Personality Disorder, Breathplay, Bruises, Character Development, Choking, Claustrophobia, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Control Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Daddy Kink, Depression, Dirty Talk, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Gentle Sex, Graphic Description of Corpses, Happy Ending, Hurt No Comfort, I promise you it'll have an happy ending and everything will be okay, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Innocent Reader, Jealousy, Kneeling, Knifeplay, Loss of Virginity, Massage, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Cancer, Morning Sex, Naive Reader, Negan is really protective over you, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Tickling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Abuse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Neglect, Past Drug Use, Past Violence, Personal Growth, Pet Names, Physical Abuse, Piercings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Public Claiming, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Restraints, Rough Kissing, Roughness, Running Away, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Harm, Separation Anxiety, Sharing Clothes, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Stabbing, Suicide Attempt, Threats, Trigger warnings:, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Wall Sex, Weapons, all over the place too, all the damn time, and he also gets really jealous, and lots of touching in general so be aware of that darlings, because what's the point otherwise, food control, i just want to cover everything so you all know what you're getting yourself into, insecure reader, just kinky shit all around, lot of that, negan loves your body a little too much, talk of anxiety and depression, you end up stealing Negan's clothes, you'll end up learning how to love yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 330,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpeachy/pseuds/lilpeachy
Summary: You've tried, you've tried so hard.You can't count how many times you'd ran away from him.How many times you'd tried to stay out of his reach.How many times you'd almost slapped his stupid face off.How many times you'd cried because of him.How many times you'd yelled at him out of frustration.How many times you'd tried to fight him off.How many times you'd lied straight to his face.And now? Now he's got you pinned against the mattress of his queen sized bed, holding your hands above your head with one of his as the other gently wipes your tears away from your tired, delicate and defeated face. "Fucking shit doll, I fucking love the shit out of you. Stop crying, I got you"You can't count how many times you'd tried to keep yourself from giving into him.How many times you'd tried to fight off the urge to have his lips devouring you.How many times you'd found yourself looking for him and needing him.
  No such thing as failure uh?





	1. No Way Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone o3o.
> 
> Before you start reading this poop, please -for the love of everything holy- keep in mind that English is not my native language so, if you find any mistakes -and I'm pretty sure you will?- don't be rude or belittle me, please, just correct me so that I can fix it and improve my writing, pretty please.  
> Just don't be rude, please.
> 
> Much love to all of you lil cupcakes.
> 
> IMPORTANT: There are mentions of abuse, rape and self-harm in the story, please, do know that I do under no circumstances mean to glorify, romanticize and/or to sexualize these things.  
> Those are things that I have experienced first hand and it's nothing I would ever wish upon another soul or glorify let me be really clear on this.  
> And if you're going through any kind of abuse or have suicidal tendencies and/or thoughts please, talk to someone about it, there's always someone out there ready and willing to help and listen to you darling.  
> Stay safe, I love you.

**O** ne last erratic groan, one last breath and you know it's all done. You're finally in the clear after hours and hours of fighting off the dead in this small, lost in the middle of nowhere, church.

" **T** he hell're you looking at?" you ask angrily at the huge statue standing tall in the small place before sighing deeply and sitting on one of the many wooden benches in the church.

This is just an another part of your "routine". You're used to this, all of it, the blood covering your hands, clothes soaking in it, your trustworthy bow on your back, its string hugging your body and your bloody butterfly knife in your hand, knuckles white around the body of the weapon.

You're a lone survivor, you've been with a few groups before but it never worked out, you'd either get scared of losing the people you were with and leave or you'd actually stick around and just watch it happen anyway. Hell, you always wonder how you've made it this far, how did you succeed where all your friends failed and payed one hell of a price for it?

" **A** lright [y/n], get it together, get what you need and get the heck out of here before more of 'em show up, again." you whisper to yourself, trying to get a little motivation out of you.

You slowly get up letting out a loud groan of pain, you never take some time out just to see, let alone take care of, just how much damages have been done to your body and you sure as shit are paying the price for it.

" **A** lright, shoot, okay, first thing first... Search the bodies."

You hate doing this, you hate looting bodies but you know it's necessary.

You've seen a lot of bad things, _really_ bad things, but, still, your humanity is still right here and it seems like it's not going anywhere anytime soon which makes you feel at ease but also angers you at times. Now, don't get twisted, you're human, you're vulnerable, naive and ridiculously shy but you are **far** from being weak.

A good fifteen minutes later, you're all done and you're pretty happy with the things that you're putting in your denim backpack; a bunch of candy bars, two lighters and you even found a book in one of the dead survivors' backpack along with a Gameboy.

" **S** hoot... That's so cool, dude!" you say, looking at the huge grey box in your tiny hand, with a huge, sincere, smile on your face, giggling like a child at your new found.

 _it's gonna distract you [y/n], just put it back_.

Your smile fades and you quickly pull yourself together before throwing the Gameboy in your backpack, ignoring the voice in your head, and closing it before getting back up to start looking around the place, hell, you didn't almost die to get out of this place empty handed.

" **N** ope, not happening." you mutter to yourself but you quickly get frustrated while looking around when you realize that the only useful things you'll find today are going to be the ones you've found on the dead. You sigh and grab the bible sitting next to you on a big table, shove it in your backpack and leave the place, not bothering to close the door behind you, frustrated and irritated.

" **T** his is such bullshit." you mumble angrily in the air.

You then start to hear noises around you as you get closer to the woods surrounding the area and you know better than to stick around but you freeze into place when you hear different sets of footsteps going around.

_no way these are walkers, [y/n], move!_

Your body and mind are on full alert and you quickly climb on a nearby tree going as high as your weakening body will allow you to go before, out of breath, you come to a stop and straddle a thick branch, putting your backpack between your parted legs, holding it close to you, your breathing erratic and short.

" **F** uck, fuck, fuckidy fuck." you shakily whisper into your bag as you hear whistles going around in the woods, the noises way too close to comfort for you.

Even though you're seriously high up on the tree and clearly out of sight, you can't help but shake and pant like the scared child you used to be, you feel a knot forming in your stomach and your throat getting tight, keeping you from breathing properly, making your panic grow stronger and sending your body and brain into overdrive.

" **W** hat d'you find?" you hear a loud, kind of "in your face", man say, clearly annoyed.

" **S** omeone came through, dunno when but sure as shit did, there's a bunch of rotters down in this shit church, a few fresh bloody foot prints but no signs of anyone so far." says an another man clearly annoyed as well.

" **F** ucking shit, c'mon then, get your useless asses back in the damn trucks! It's gettin' dark."

You catch a glimpse of the scene and it scares you even more than you already were when you realize that there's at least thirteen men right below you, right below the tree you tried to find safety on, and a single tear of panic escapes you.

But, at least, you can put a face, even if you can't see every single details you see enough, on the scruffy, kinda angry sounding, voice echoing carelessly through the woods. He's a white man, probably in his fourties, pretty damn tall and with a mustache that kinda makes him look creepy rather than manly.

 _ugh, he looks like one of those creeps_...

You see him look around as all the men around him obediently get back to their trucks which you imagine have been left on the small dirt road at the entrance of the forest since you can't see any.

" **F** ucking hell, what the hell am I supposed to tell Negan? Hey boss, someone's out there but we couldn't locate the lil shit?"

_Negan? who the hell is Negan? and who's he calling a "lil shit"? rude??_

The man finally leaves and you wait until you can't hear the trucks on the road anymore before you finally allow yourself to relax a little bit.

You dry your tears with the back of your shaking hands and carefully climb off the tall tree, letting out a small shaky sigh, holding on tightly to the tree to support yourself since your legs are shaking like leaves in high wind and, after a few seconds, you finally start to walk back towards the small road, carefully sticking your head out of the woods to check if the coast is clear.

When you feel it's safe enough, you slowly come out just to go and kneel on the road to touch the thick tracks the tires left in the dirt. You can't really put your fingers on why but you have a really bad feeling about these men, they didn't seem too friendly to you.

You saw that they were armed head to toe and they clearly had other people waiting on them, like this "Negan" the creepy mustache dude mentioned, he called him "boss" which kinda, just slightly, brings you to assume that he might, maybe, just maybe, be the leader of this group of men, just maybe.

_boss? pff, rings any bells [y/n]? i mean, déjà-vu right? first this psycho getting hot for people calling him "governor" now this Negan dude is the "boss"? yeah right and my ass is chicken, choke on it asshole._

You smile slightly at your own thoughts before shaking your head and getting back up.

" **A** lrighty, guess it's time to go."

_go where...?_

Where? Also a part of your daily routine, finding your "where" every single night. It's tough living out there in the open twenty-four-seven but you just make do, you always do, always have.

You decide to head back in the small church, careful not to step on any corps lying around before locking yourself up in a small room at the very back of the place. Once inside, you push the heavy wooden desk sitting in the middle of the room against the door and, completely out of breath, you let yourself fall on the very small bed in the left corner of the room.

" **W** hat a crappy day, dude." you softly let out before closing your eyes, secretly wishing for some sleep tonight, at least a full hour.

 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

 

**2:15** **AM** **//**

**_"lil shit, stop right now or I swear to fucking god I'll cut your damn throat wide open, shut up! I already told you that's the way it is, stop fucking fighting me, just take it like the useless piece of shit are! Stop fighting it!_ "**

Your eyes snap open, tears threatening to fall out of them like water out of a broken sink, you bite your lips and bury your head in the flat pillow on the bed, your body shaking violently as you let out loud sobs and tears stream down your face to be sucked into the pillow beneath your head, soaking your face with the salty liquid, your lungs opening and closing violently, your heart beating out of your chest and it feels like the room is closing in on you. You start to panic and everything goes black for a few minutes and, brutally, everything comes back to its previous state but it's too late.

You feel a sharp pain in your left forearm and new waves of sobs roll right through you.

" **N** o. No, no, no, no, please, no." you panic as your sobbing gets out of control.

Your forearm is covered in blood, _your_ blood, the whole room smells of it, messy deep cuts covering the skin there, your right hand shaking and your fingers weakly holding into a sharp razor blade which is slightly covered in fresh and dry blood. Thankfully, the blood on it is only yours, not walker's and anyone else's.

 _it's okay, you know it happens. it's okay_.

You hate to admit it but, now, you feel calm, you feel peaceful. Your previous nightmare has been put in a dark corner of your mind with all the others. You let out a shaky breath looking down at your arm and grab your untouched wrist firmly before reaching for your backpack to get some gauze and antiseptic out of it to try and patch yourself up as best as you can giving the circumstances.

Once your done with the bandage, you let your body push back on the mattress until your back hits the hard, rough, wall the bed is pushed up against, since it's lacking an headboard, and let your eyes close just for them to be forced open by loud banging sounds against the door of the small office you found refuge in.

Your instincts take over and, before you know it, you're grabbing your backpack and get a tight grip on your bow, getting in arrow ready to use and you get ready to fight yet again. You take a step back, waiting for the door to give out and for the desk holding it to be pushed away by the dead, bracing yourself.

You can hear them groaning and scratching the door but before you can raise your bow, the plank of wood you took a step back on gives out on one side, swallowing your foot in a tight and sharp hole.

" **W** hat the hell?!" you cry out in pain as your right calve sinks into the hole in the wooden floor, your foot touching the dirt ground below the church which is covered by grass and dust, your skin getting little sharp cuts in the process.

_great, just great..._

The office's door starts to shake more and more so you decide to just "do with what you're given". You grab the broken, or already taken out of place on purpose, fucked if you know, piece of wood and tear it of off the floor expanding the hole to allow you to now slip out of the room easily.

_okay.. so, you're under a big ass church, nothing scary right? just casually crawling underneath a fucking church, that's cool, not creepy at all, not a chance this thing is gonna collapse on our ass right? just, casually crawling underneath a fucking building... that's cool._

You shake as your claustrophobia gives you a hard time to grab the wooden plank you tore off to put it back as best as you can in it's place; making sure nothing will end up crawling after you in the tight space, before turning on your tummy to find yourself face to face with the dirty ground.

" **O** kay, I take it back, this isn't just a crappy day, it's an award winning crappy day." you mumble bitterly as you crawl between the church's floor and the dirty ground laying beneath it and, when you finally see the end of it, it's only to be greeted by muffled groans and gun shots.

You freeze under the church as you see walkers falling right in front of you on the ground, dead and limp, looking right at you, you feel tears filling your [y/e/c] eyes once again today and a pair of brown-ish combat boots make their way towards you.

You want to move away but you're completely stuck there, you can't bring yourself to move, your breath is caught in your throat and, slowly, the person in the pair of boots kneels and brings himself to the ground looking at you with an amused smile on his face, you know you've seen him before but you can recall when.

" **W** ell, what do we have here?" that fucking voice..., " **I** t's quite a situation you're in, uh, darling?" he laughs lowly and you're still right where you stopped a few seconds ago, your body shaking and your eyes watering.

" **I** -I don't have anything, just let me be, pl-please?"

_okay, this was not supposed to come out as a question..._

" **Y** eeah, nah, sorry pretty thing but I just can't do that. Now, how 'bout you come out here so I don't have to drag you to me, uh? How 'bout it? C'mon, be a dear, for me, yeah?" He's amused by the whole thing and it pisses you off and upsets you beyond belief.

Does he really think you're just gonna do whatever he wants? Hell no. Well, at least that's what you thought for a solid minute before his giant hand wrapped itself around your wounded forearm, making you cry out in pain and making blood pour out of your fresh, now re-opened, wounds just to drag you out of your small hiding spot, which you immediately find way more inviting now that you've been forced out of it. You're pushed up on to your feet only to end up facing the tall mustached dude that you've spotted in the woods hours ago.

" **W** ell, I'll be damned! If you aren't the prettiest shit there is out there! Damn, darlin', look at you!"

His words kinda make you sick and you feel like throwing up on his feet but you force yourself to lift your head just to see a whole bunch of dudes standing right behind him, all smiling like idiots, armed head to toe and you're slightly blinded by the lights coming from cars parked all over the place. 

You take a few steps back, at least you try to, but electricity shoots through your right leg as it gives out making you fall at the man's feet, the opened wound on your calve starting to throb and making you cry out yet again.

" **S** hit. That looks like it hurts like a bitch, don't it, sweetheart?"

" **S** top giving me stupid pet names you fucking creep, you wanna kill me? Be my guest, fucking try me."

" **W** ow! She talks! And what a fucking mouth you got on you,  _darling._ " he insists on the last word and that does it, you find the strength to bring yourself up just enough to punch him in the face, fucking up your knuckles in the process.

_worth it._

" **H** EY!" a dude yells from the back coming towards you, making you jump and you try, you really do, to put some distance in between the two of you while you eye the man you just punched.

He's just on the floor, the blow made him lose his balance, holding his now opened jawline. You take a good look at the other man still coming closer and closer to you, he's blonde and..

Shit, what the hell happened to his face? It looks seriously burned on one side and it fascinates and grosses you out at the same time, so much so that you actually stop walking away from him and let him come to you and, once he's close enough, he immediately invades your personal space.

" **C** 'mere you lil' shit." he pulls you close to him, your body touching his, making you twitch which seems to amuse him before putting his mouth really close to your ear whispering to you, " **D** o not make me hurt you, please, it'll be okay, just do as you're fucking told, princess."

_ugh! what's with these dudes and pet names! it's creepy as shit._

And, maybe it's because of the fact that he's so damn close to you and it makes you uncomfortable as fuck and you're willing do to whatever it takes for him to step back, but, when he harshly grabs your forearm, you let him drag you closer to his group only to end up being forced down on your knees.

_okay, this is fucking creepy, what the hell?_

The man you just punched comes back into view, crouching in front of you, smiling, blood slowly dripping from his fresh wound and, you gotta admit that you kinda feel proud of yourself when you eye the bloody mess that is his jaw.

" **O** h, you're gonna get in some serious shit now, darling." he says snapping you out of your contemplation with a mean smile on his face. He gets back up and stroll towards the rusty and bloody RV standing in the middle of the place knocking harshly on the door, " **L** et's meet the man" He says with the same smile on his face as the door swings open and a tall figure slowly appears.

The said "man" finally comes into view and your breath gets caught in your throat as he slowly walks towards you.

He's tall, lean but clearly muscular, he's wearing a leather jacket, dark denim jeans and a red scarf is hugging his neck, his dark hair are slicked back and he swings, oh so casually, a barbed-wire covered baseball bat around before settling it on his broad shoulder.

Your body is shaking again, you're scared shitless, you're surrounded by a bunch of creepy dudes and it feels like their dad just came by to say hello and it sucks.

" **H** oly fuckidy fuck! You guys! Look at that fuckin' angel face. Damn, now this I really fucking like! Now that's," he points at you with the head of his bat, making you shift uncomfortably, "the kind of girl you just don't find anymore, you sorry fucks! Fucking look at her, good fucking goddamn!" he kneels in front of you looking straight into your eyes, his bat making contact with your chin and you know it's bleeding as you can feel the wire biting into your skin, tears escaping your eyes yet again and your body shaking from fatigue and terror.

" **A** w, don't cry, baby doll." he looks at you with a smirk on the corner of his mouth, " **S** imon, how about you tell me why the fuck your jaw is wide open? I got a feeling that lil' angel might have something to do with it." his smirk slowly fades as he waits for an answer still looking at you, clearly waiting for you to look back at him, which you don't, your eyes are firmly pinned on the ground.

" **W** ell, this pretty lil' creature here seems to be a bit of a trouble maker, boss." you almost scoff at that, "She was underneath the damn church, looking like a scared, lost, lil' puppy and she got a lil' grumpy on me when I got her out of her hole." this time, you do scoff and clench your jaw as he compares you to a damn puppy, hearing the smile in his voice pissing you off beyond belief.

You hear the man in front you laugh lowly and that's a dangerous laughter if ever you've heard one, " **S** hit! I like my girls with some fight in them darlin', but-" he harshly grabs your face with a glove covered hand making wince in pain at his unnecessarily tight grip, " **I** can't let you punch the shit out of one of my men and let it go unpunished, you understand that, right, baby doll?"

" **I** \- I don't- He-" you curse yourself for not being able to form a damn sentence in front of these men knowing fully well that they're getting off on you being afraid and vulnerable in front of them.

" **N** ow kitten, no need to be nervous even though I do understand why you would be. I mean, shit, that's a lot o'people around you and you have absolutely no where to fucking run to, but! No one is going to hurt ya as long as you're good, now, are you gonna be a good girl for me or not?"

" **Y** -yes"

" **Y** es what, sweet pie?"

" **I** -I'll b-behave."

" **N** ice! Now that's progress! That's the kind of shit that makes my dick twitch in my pants, y'know?"

You feel like you're about the throw up, you feel so embarrassed and you hate this man with every fiber of your being already.

" **O** kay, now! Time for a little talk doll, first of all, do you have a small clue as to who I am?"

Yes, of course you do, you've put two and two together the moment he stepped into view, he's the man that Simon dude referred as his "boss".

" **Y** ou're Negan, aren't you?"

" **G** irl, I'm getting more and more into you with each passing seconds." he smiles and gets back on his feet before pacing around in long strolls in front of you, " **I** , indeed, am Negan, darlin', and, from now on; everything you own is mine-" he pauses and points at you with the end of his bat which is covered in dried blood "And so are you baby doll"

It's cold out, you're shaking, your head is spinning and you feel like you're about to pass out.

Your body aches and begs for some care as the tears filling your eyes once again threaten to roll down your face. You feel lost, alone, and scared and you don't even have time to process what's happening to you as your brain shuts down to cool you off, everything goes to black and you feel yourself slipping away to fall on the cold hard ground beneath you, not being able to keep yourself up anymore.

God knows you've tried.


	2. Meeting Lucille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first thing first, thank you guys so much for your support and kind words you made me so freaking happy you don't even know ༼ つ ಥ_ಥ ༽つ  
> I'm not gonna bother you too much, promise, I just wanted to say thank you, to all of you, you're all precious smol creatures and I luv you.
> 
> Stay safe angels.

Your eyes slowly open, painfully trying to adjust to the sunlight shinning in them, you feel oddly comfortable and you slowly move your body to sit and realize that you're on a bed, the most comfortable bed you've been on in a while, you look around and you feel lost and small.

_where the hell..._

You're in a small room with medical equipment, the walls are painted white and there's only a few little decorations to bright the room up a small bit, where the hell are you?

A gentle knock on the door of the small room you're in, which you now realize is a small individual installation, snaps you out of your confusion.

" **Y** -yes?"

The door slowly creaks open and a head pops out from behind it, smiling at you, not the same kind of smile those creeps in the woods gave you, no, this one is sincere and filled with genuine concern.

" **H** ello there, I'm doctor Carson, I took take care of you last night. You probably don't remember me though, you were in a really bad shape."

" **W** -where are they? Are you one of them? Where the hell am I!" You start to freak out, as memories of the night before come running back to you, the sharp pain coursing through your body, the tears you've shed, the fear eating you alive, those fucking creeps...

The doctor closes the door and rushes towards you slowly reaching to grab one of your hands in a gentle, almost hesitant at first, but firm grip.

" **I** t's okay, you're okay, I promise. You're at Hilltop, we're a small community, Negan brought you to me really late last night. Like I said, you've lost a lot of blood and your body is suffering from serious injuries."

" **N** egan? Where is he? Is he still here? Is he gonna come back? I don't want him to come back, I don't- I can't!" panic begins to wash over your body and you feel your heartbeat getting out of control, your breathing quickening worryingly so.

" **S** hh, honey, listen to me," he says as he gently puts his hand on the left side of your face making you look at him, "nothing will happen to you alright? Now, listen carefully, you're welcome to stay here, with us, as long as you need to, okay? You can be a part of the community even if, I gotta tell you, it's kinda dysfunctional at times." he says with a small laugh in a failed attempt to make you smile, you give him a weak smile but your eyes are filled with tears still, " **D** o you- Do you mind giving me your name? Mine is Harlan, most people around just call me Doc, though."

" **I** \- [Y/n], my name's [y/n]." you say nodding your head as if you're not even that sure about your own name anymore.

" **W** ell, it's a pleasure to meet you [y/n], Jesus is gonna come by in a few minutes to give you some fresh clothes and he'll give you a tour if you want. Just don't be afraid to talk to him, he's a complete sweetheart."

_jesus? what kind of name is that?_

" **O** -okay... A-are you- are you gonna stay with me?"

" **N** o, honey, I have a few things to do and I think that a nice warm shower will help you relax for a bit, yeah?"

" **W** arm- Wait, you- you guys have hot water?"

" **Y** es, we do." he says looking at you with a big smile on his face, happy to see that the mention of warm water made your day slightly better.

" **W** -wow, and- like... I can use it?" you ask hesitantly, your head down, fingers nervously playing with the sheets covering your body.

" **Y** es, of course. Go right ahead, take your time, honey. I'll come back to check on you tonight, is that okay?"

" **S** -sure, thank you."

" **D** on't mention it, it's my pleasure, really."

He leaves the room, slowly closing the door and you wait for it to click shut before jumping out of the bed you're in, petrified when you see that your legs are completely bare.

_okay, so, correct me if i'm wrong but, i'm pretty sure i had pants on yesterdaaay?? noooo?? mayyybe? whaat?_

You shove everything aside when you come face to face with a tall mirror.

_fucking shit..._

Your lower body is covered in bruises, scratches and dried blood... Okay, more or less dry. You can see stitches on your right calve and the pain you felt last night comes back on your mind, that is one mean looking wound.

" **D** ude..." you whisper to your reflection and slowly build up the courage to raise the loose shirt hanging over your quivering frame just to see the damages done to the upper part of your body only to gasp in shock when you see your tummy covered in nasty looking, blue-green and purple-ish bruises which are covering the soft skin of your belly and your ribs, a few cuts here and there as well, you take your shirt off completely feeling safe in the room since all the windows are way too high and small for anyone to see what's going on inside.

You bring your old, worn out and way too big t-shirt to your chest hugging it tightly, hiding your face in it. 

_i used to love this shirt, it's all messed up now._

The piece of cotton is covered in blood and is ripped up at some places.

" **D** ad... What do I do? I'm so scared." you whisper into the soft fabric before letting out a loud, heavy sigh.

You drop the shirt on the bed you were previously in and look around the room, quickly finding what you assume to be the bathroom. You slowly move towards the tiny room and push the door open with your fingertips, part of you clearly on the look out for anything that could jump out at you.

_habits man..._

You shrug off the small rush of adrenaline that shot through your body when you made your way in the bathroom before locking the door and slowly getting rid of your bra and panties. You then slowly make your way to the glass door of the shower stranding in the corner of the room but, before entering it, you go and grab one of the towels sitting on the small dresser next to the sink and quickly cover the small mirror standing above it.

_i don't need to see more of this shit._

You let out a deep breath and head back towards the shower, slowly opening the glass door and reaching for the knob marked with a red dot, slowly twisting it around and waiting for the water to pour out. You get your hand out quickly when you catch a glimpse of a razor standing next the other towels on the dresser and you quickly walk over to grab it.

_glad to see i still have my priorities straight._

You quickly get in the shower, closing the door behind you and gasp happily when the warm water hits your sore and aching body, a laugh slipping out of your mouth.

" **O** h my God, I'm staying in here- Forever."

You start washing your body, scrubbing gently on your wounds, careful not to re-open any of them, you wash your hair and let the water run down your body as you start shaving your legs, armpits and finish with your most intimate parts.

Once you drag yourself out of the warm paradise you were in, you feel amazing and... clean. Awfully clean.

_ugh, what's wrong with you! who has a problem with getting dried blood and guts washed off their body!_

Your thoughts are cut short when you hear someone knocking on the door of the bathroom.

" **I** don't mean to interrupt, I just brought you your clothes, put them on your bed. I'm Paul by the way."

A man says through the door, you start to panic when you realize that you're completely naked and there's no way in hell you're getting out there with only a towel wrapped around your body.

" **U** h, I- uh, I'm not r-really wearing any-anything so..."

" **O** h, yeah, okay, I'll wait outside, knock on the door when you're done, alright?"

" **Y** -yeah, okay, thank you."

" **N** o need to thank me, [y/n], I'm not gonna force you to come out in your birthday suit. No worries!"

You smile at the attention and wait for him to leave before slowly unlocking the bathroom door when you hear the main door click shut, peeping your head out to make sure that he's gone.

You come out of the bathroom and walk to the bed where there's clothes waiting for you, you pick them up and look at them, inspecting them; you first put the set of baby pink underwear sitting on the mattress and you actually really like them on you, there's also a large ripped denim jean that you put on with no problem and roll multiple times at the bottom for it to fit the length of your legs, a loose AC/DC black shirt which is also too big for you so you shove a bit of it in the waistband of your jeans and you swiftly put a pair of plain black socks on before slipping your black combat boots on and you slowly make your way to the door, softly knocking on it signaling for Paul, whoever the fuck that is, that it's okay for him to come back in.

He slowly opens the door, his eyes shut, " **Y** ou're decent?"

" **Y** -yes, thank you for- well, you know, for the clothes and- for waiting outside."

" **L** ike I said, no problem at all." he says while coming in and closing the door behind him as he steps in he takes a look at you, smiling shyly while scratching his beard. " **S** orry 'bout the clothes, these used to be mine so, yeah... They're way too big for you." he says with a small laugh, not making fun of you, just liking how cute you look, you blush and tug at the black t-shirt nervously and he notices immediately, " **H** ey, I didn't mean to make fun, you look ridiculously good in those, they never looked good on me, I'm kinda jealous if I'm being honest here."

You let out a small laugh and look up at him, looking closely at his face, he has blue eyes, long dirty blond hair and one hell of a beard.

" **I** 'm Paul by the way, people here call me Jesus though." he gives you his hand for you to shake but just look at him in amusement.

" **J** -jesus? Really?" you burst out laughing, holding your sides, your body aching from the vibrations of your laughter but you just can't stop, " **F** reaking hell- it hurts so bad!"

" **Y** eah well, that'll teach you to make fun of me, young lady." he says clearly amused as well, your laugh contagious as he starts to laugh along with you.

You can't remember the last time you cracked a sincere, genuine laugh but now, even though everything hurts, you can't bring yourself to care. You eventually calm down and sit back on the bed, Jesus sitting in a chair in front of you, careful not to invade your personal space.

" **D** amn," he whispers "I can't remember the last time I laughed like that, your laugh is contagious-" he looks at you waiting for you to tell him your name but you know that he already knows what it is, hell, he used it a few minutes ago when he spoke to you through the bathroom door.

"[ **Y** /n], I'm [y/n], you already know that though, so, why ask?"

" **H** abit I guess."

" **H** abits suck." you said lowly, more to yourself than to him.

After that, an oddly comfortable silence settles between the two of you but it's cut short by a loud, obnoxious knock on your door making you jump out of your skin while Jesus only sighs deeply, clearly knowing what's behind the door.

" **P** aul-"

" **T** hat's Negan, [y/n]."

" **W** -what? No, I- I don't want to see that guy, please!"

He slowly rises on his feet and walk towards you, kneeling down a bit to be able to look you in the eyes.

" **H** ey, now." his voice is soft and reassuring but the banging on the door is the complete opposite, " **L** isten to me, [y/n], nothing will happen to you, I promise. He can't move you anyways, your body is too weak. So, for now, you're here, no questions asked, he knows, just-"

" **O** pen the motherfucking door, you prick." a loud obnoxious voice orders from the other side of the metal door making Jesus sigh in defeat, he caresses your face with his right thumb and promises you that everything will be okay before walking towards the door, unlocking it, your heart beating out of your chest and you feel like you're about to throw it up.

Negan's tall frame appears in the small room completely claiming it as his own without even trying and he flashes you a smile, sending the worst kind of shivers down your spine.

" **G** et out." he firmly orders to Jesus without breaking eye contact with you and he obeys and walks out, looking at you one last time which doesn't go unnoticed by Negan and you can see his jaw clench as he shoves Jesus out with so much force, it's a miracle that he didn't fall flat on his face. 

_fucking hell..._

" **W** ell, good morning, beautiful. It's a wonderful fucking day ain't it, angel face?" He says before slamming the door shut and you don't answer knowing that he's not waiting for one, at least you don't think he is. He furrows his eyebrows and walks up to you to sit right beside you on the bed making the mattress dip underneath his weight and the sudden dip shoves you to the side a small bit, making him laugh, " **H** ow'd you sleep darlin'? You scared the fuck outta me last night y'know that? Not cool, dolly."

You feel your body starting to shake once again and you keep avoiding his gaze because you know you won't be able to hold it for more than one small second. You feel him get even closer to you, your breath getting stuck in your throat, your lungs violently closing, keeping you from breathing.

" **T** hat shit on your arm?" you look all around you, avoiding any kind of contact with the man sitting right beside you, way too close for comfort.

Tears are slowly making their way to your eyes, your shaky fingers are nervously playing with your hair, pulling at them and swirling them around. You can feel him getting impatient next to you and it makes you even more nervous, " **L** ook at me when I'm talking to you, doll."

You don't, you can't, you don't want to. But he doesn't seem to give a shit, what Negan wants, Negan gets.

He grabs your face and forces you to look right at him, tightening his grip on you to keep you from looking away, " **I** don't want to see any more of this shit, am I fucking clear?" he says firmly, talking about the self-inflicted cuts on your left forearm.

" **C** -crystal cl-"

You can't finish your sentence as your tummy shakes violently and you can't hold your tears in anymore, you just fall apart right in front of him, yet again. His hand doesn't leave your jaw, you just feel his thumb wiping some of your tears away and you can hear him lowly hushing you.

" **N** ow, now, baby girl, why're you crying?"

" **I** \- I don't- I just-" you can't talk through your violent sobs and you start to shake some more, you close your eyes to try and keep him out of your sight since he's still holding your face up to his.

" **F** ucking hell, princess, you're such a fuckin' mess."

His words might have sound harmless to him but they didn't to you and you can feel yourself starting to shut everything out and your body starting to curl in an attempt to get out of Negan's grip and away from him. He seems to understand that his words wounded you and smiles down at you.

" **S** hit, darlin', I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, y'know. Damn, I actually like to see you fall apart in front of me like that, kinda pets my ego."

_can't you just fucking apologize, you prick?_

" **W** here's my backpack?" you spit through gritted teeth, grabbing the opportunity to turn the conversation around, he's seriously starting to piss you off with his attitude, you don't even know him, who the fuck does he think he is?

He slowly gets closer to you, his nose now touching yours, " **D** idn't you fucking hear me last night? I own your shit, your backpack? It's fucking mine to do with as I fucking please now."

" **N** o, that's not fucking fair!" you get out of his grip and get off the bed, trying to stand your grounds but when he stands to follow you back on his feet, you feel like his frame is crushing you and the closer he comes the smaller you feel. Eventually you're stopped by a wall and you curse out loud making him laugh as he cages you in with his arms pressed against both sides of your face and his upper body touching yours.

" **W** hy do I feel like you're holding out on me, baby doll?" 

You look at him curiously.

_what does he mean by that?_

He laughs lowly, just like last night, it kinda scares you and, even though you try to hide it from him, he knows, " **I** 've seen the fucking massacre you've made back at the church, your go to weapon is a fucking knife and, goddamn, you fucking exploded my right-hand man's jaw, sweetheart." he grins showing off his pearly whites before leaning even closer to you his nose once again bumping into yours, " **Y** ou're just a fucking adorable killing machine aren't you? And I'm willing to bet that, right now, you're trying to figure out a way to fucking kill me, aren't you, sweet thing?"

You scoff and look him dead in the eyes, " **I** f I wanted to kill you, I would. Hell, I could kill you right now if I wanted to, all I'd have to do is sink my teeth into your jugular and you'd bleed out in a matter of seconds, Negan."

He smiles and drags his tongue out across his bottom lip, " **D** amn, I really fucking like the way my name rolls off your tongue, baby doll."

Your eyes drop again and you feel your face heating up in pure anger and frustration, talking to this man is like talking to a damn wall.

_nah, the wall can't fucking talk back and walls aren't so full of shit._

He backs off of you a small bit but not enough for you to feel comfortable and you quickly understand that that's exactly what he wants, for you to feel small.

Part of you can't stand it anymore and it takes over quickly, making you spit right on his face before you can even think about the consequences of such actions. You see his jaw clench and his smile fading dangerously slowly.

Scared, you try to push yourself further again the wall he has you trapped against, trying desperately to create some distance between the two of you, " **T** hat's fucking it, you've fucking done it this time. You think you can just fucking spit on my goddamn face and I'll just laugh it off? Hell no, this shit will not fucking fly with me, doll."

Negan forcefully grabs your body with his huge hands making you jump backward, trying to push him off but he easily hoists you up on his shoulder, walking towards the small bed in the room before dropping you on it and storming out of the room, locking the door behind him, making sure you won't be able to get out.  

_what now? is he just gonna keep me locked up in this room?_

You jump when you hear the door opening and being slammed shut as he comes back in the room locking the door behind him once again, you start to shake when you see that he's holding his baseball bat in his single gloved hand.

You try to drag yourself back into the bed, trying to put as much distance as you possibly can between the two of you but he's quick to grab your ankles and drag you back to the edge of the bed, your body colliding into his as he smiles down at you.

" **W** ell, hi there." he gives you a small wink before raising his bat right in front of your face, smiling wickedly, " **T** his is Lucille and she's fucking awesome"

You can't help but try and get away from him once again, pushing against his chest but he's not moving, he just grabs your body tightly and flips you over on your belly and you start to panic as tears roll down your face, awful memories coming back to you, making you sick.

" **H** ush now darling, I'm not a fucking monster, I don't do _that._ " he insists on his last word making it clear to you that is talking about the one thing you fear the most; rape, " **B** ut, you've been a bad fucking girl sweetpie and I can't have that."

" **B** ut- Y-you were being mea-"

" **O** h, I know princess, daddy fucked up too and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again, but now, daddy's gotta make sure that his little girl doesn't pull this shit ever again, yeah? 'Cause, you see, here's the thing darling; you're mine, all fucking mine, you fucking belong to me and I will not have you acting up and fighting me off, sweetheart."

_well shit, fuck you too, ya freaky dick._

You're about to protest but the feeling of your denim jeans sliding down your thighs shuts you up and you start to cry some more. You're exhausted and you know that you can't fight him off, you know that whatever he decides to do, he'll be able to do it because you just can't stop him, you don't have the strength to anymore.

" **R** elax, sweetheart, I'm even gonna be super nice and let you keep your panties on, this time. I'm too fucking nice sometimes, aren't I? How about a thank you? What d'you think? I think that's in order to be honest, I totally deserve a thank you."

You swallow your pride and muffle a thank you into the mattress, you don't want to look at him, this is so embarrassing. 

" **N** ah, see, that just won't do it, dolly, I'm gonna need you to speak the fuck up. C'mon, I know you can do it, you're a smart girl."

You turn your head slightly to the side, your eyes tightly closed as you speak up, " **T** -thank you, Negan." your voice is low, wrecked from the fatigue and full of sadness and embarrassment.

You feel your face turn red once again when you hear him laugh lowly and feel his body crushing yours, his mouth landind right next to your ear.

_does this man know about personal space?_

" **W** hy, you're welcome, baby girl." you can hear and feel him smile and you know that if you had anything in your stomach you would be throwing it up right now, " **A** lright! Now, my favorite part." you hear him shuffling around behind you and you can feel his eyes burning into your skin, " **G** ood God, princess, you got an ass that'll drive any man to insanity. I've never been so fucking tempted to touch a woman's body like I am right now. But, hey, I'm a reasonable man so I won't touch if you don't want me to and I know you don't fucking want me to right now." his voice drops to a lower tone, " **B** ut that's okay, I know you'll come around soon enough."

You feel like screaming and stabbing him in the face, his stupid face, as his words fuel your anger but you quickly feel said anger dropping when you feel the cold, sharp, wires covering his bat cutting into the soft skin of your round butt.

" **P** l-please don't, Negan- Please"

" **I** t'll be quick, darlin', you just hold still for me. You can cry if you want but I want you to count every single one of 'em, you got that?"

" **N** o."

He laughs and press his bat harder into your skin making you wince in discomfort, " **D** idn't quite catch that, baby girl, come again?"

You cry out in frustration, you're not getting out of this one and you know it. You swallow your pride and nod, burying your face into the mattress trying to brace yourself for the first blow but nothing could have prepared you for the pain that shot through you as "Lucille" came down on the left butt cheek.

" **O** NE!"

You hear him groan and the blows just keep coming one right after the other, going from one cheek to the other. Your butt is covered in blood and small, sharp, clean cuts by the time his bat comes down on it a tenth and final time, your body arching away from him.

" **T** -ten, that's ten! Please, I-I can't, Negan, it hurts" At this point you're crying hot tears into the bed's sheets and you feel blood soaking your panties and running down your legs and inner thighs.

Your body shakes violently when a cold piece of soft cloth comes down on your bum to wipe away the blood and clean the fresh cuts.

" **T** here you go, darlin', good fucking God, you took it like such a good girl, princess. M'so proud of you, didn't even flinch. Are you mad at me, doll?"

You just shake your head no into the mattress, lying. Of course you're fucking mad, he just humiliated you and it hurts so bad, your body is on fire. You hear him groan again and you're not really sure what to make of that sound.

" **J** esus fucking Christ, I'll be fucking damned, your panties are soaking wet, darlin', and it ain't blood that's for fucking sure."

" **W** -what?" you asked, genuinely not understanding what he means or what he's talking about.

He chuckles as he realizes that you actually might not have a damn clue as to what being turned on even feels like before he turns you around slowly bringing your jeans back on your legs covering your upper body, finally. Even though the rough denim hurts against your fresh wounds, you're relieved to be fully clothed again.

His eyes bore into yours as he sits you up on the bed, your legs hanging off the edge, and you feel yourself blushing again, " **A** re you gonna behave from now on, baby doll?"

" **Y** -yes, Negan."

" **G** ood girl, see? A little bit of cooperation and everything's as smooth as your ass for daddy, darlin'."

And, just like that, he makes you feel small and helpless once again, " **W** hy don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

He furrows his eyebrows and kisses your forehead in such an oddly gentle way that it makes your eyes flutter shut without you even realizing it.

" **D** arling, I'm not about to throw away the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my fucking eyes on, that's just not happening."

He slowly lifts you up and brings you in his arms and you let him, you don't want to fight him anymore, you just don't have enough energy left to waste it on such a futile thing.

You even bury your face into his red scarf hiding away from him as you feel blood creeping on your cheeks. He just called you beautiful, no one ever said that to you before, at least not without wanting something from you. You feel his chest vibrating as he speaks up.

" **W** e gotta talk, baby doll."

You keep your head buried in his scarf as you quietly wait for him to keep talking but he clearly wants to see and hear you so he sits you back down on the bed and a gasp escapes your mouth as pain shoots through your body and he lowers himself down in front of you, " **W** e gotta talk about your options."

" **M** -my options?"

" **Y** eah, sweet thing. Listen, you can either work for me back at the Sanctuary and earn yourself points to buy you some shit to live with and all that crap or" he pauses and gives you a smile that only makes you uncomfortable. You know he's about to propose something you're not gonna like, you can just tell by the look on his face, " **O** r you could become one of my wives, you don't have to work for shit, you just have to be loyal to me and I give you everything you need and you also give me what I want from time to t-"

" **N** o" you cut him, your body starting to shake once again, you feel disgusted.

_he has a fucking harem? what in the actual fuck?_

" **N** ow, darlin', before you make any de-"

" **I** said no, I'm not doing that, I'm not yours, I never will be. I'm not working for you either, fuck you, Negan. Who the fuck do you think you are!"

He gives you a low laugh that would normally scare you but right now you don't feel anything but anger and disgust towards him.

" **I** 'll see you tomorrow, doll, sleep tight"

He kisses your forehead once again but it's different this time, this time you tense up and you quickly pull your body away from his lips only for him to laugh and slowly leave the room, whistling and swinging Lucille around, leaving you a complete mess.

And, just like that, you're crying _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: MY EYES ARE KILLING ME TODAY SO I'VE PROOFREAD MY WORK BUT I MIGHT HAVE MISSED SOME THINGS HERE AND THERE, I JUST CAN'T READ FOR TOO LONG SO I GAVE UP ON TRYING TO FIND EVERY SINGLE MISTAKE, I APOLOGIZE, I'LL CHECK BACK ON IT WHEN MY EYES WILL GIVE ME A BREAK, OKAY, BYE. 
> 
> Aaand, here goes chapter 2 of "Give Me Hell" I hope you guys enjoyed it, if not feel free to throw things at me or whatever just, nothing sharp please.  
> In all seriousness though, I hope you liked it.
> 
> LIL INFO: I WILL BE POSTING TWO CHAPTERS A WEEK SINCE THE STORY AS A VERY SLOW BURN AND EVERYTHING HAS TO GET INTO SHAPE AT ITs OWN PACE, THINGS WILL HAPPEN I PROMISE YOU THAT THEY WILL JUST HAPPEN IN THEIR OWN TIME. -it's like life and shit yo-
> 
> I LOVE YOU, STAY SAFE.
> 
> A/N²: I DID NOT POST THIS STORY ANYWHERE ELSE BUT HERE SO IF YOU SEE IT ON TUMBLR AND SUCH PLEASE LET ME KNOW, PRETTY PLEASE, OKAY LOVE YOU.


	3. Different Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally catch a glimpse of what Negan can be like when he gives a shit about someone.

**MIDNIGHT :**

You pace around the small bedroom, feeling confined and trapped in it. It's driving you insane, you take a deep breath and harshly grab the old worn out t-shirt you had on yesterday off the bed to tug it between your skin and the waistband of your jeans before pulling your hair up in a messy bun getting ready to go.

You then tear a small piece of paper off doctor Carson's clipboard to write him a small thank you note before you leave, that's the least you can do after he took care of you and was so damn nice to you.

You look around one last time and finally walk towards the door to exit the place, careful to close it behind you, before sneaking out to the back of the big mansion sitting in the middle of the small village to get to the far side of the wall, hidden from everyone, but you let out a frustrated sigh as you realize just how tall the wall standing in front of you actually is.

" **H** ow on Earth am I supposed get over this stupid wall."

" **W** ell, you're not supposed to be able to. Y'know, that's like, the whole point of the operation here." Jesus' voice makes you jump out of your boots and you slowly turn around to face him, he's wearing a sad smile on his face and you feel horrible.

" **J** esus- Look- Shoot, look, I didn't mean to bail on you but I- I need to get out of here, okay?"

" **W** hy? Where are you gonna go? I mean, shit, you want to get over this wall? Fine, I'll help you up, I'm not about to force you to stay here if you have a problem with that but, just, tell me... Tell me you'll be safe out there."

" **I** -I can't, you know I can't but- I just- I can't stay here okay? I'm not c-comfortable around people anymore." you admit looking down at your boots suddenly finding great interest in them while pulling nervously on your still shaking fingers.

You hear Jesus let out an heavy sigh and immediately feel his huge arms wrap themselves around your body, pulling you to him and kissing the top of your head.

" **I** 'll kill you if you die out there [y/n], just so you know." You giggle sadly into his chest, giving him a slight squeeze before slowly letting go of him and raising on your tiptoes to shyly kiss his cheek before looking down again, " **W** ait for me here, okay? I'll be right back, just, promise me you'll be here when I'll come back."

" **F** 'course." you promise with a small smile as he runs off to God knows where, leaving you here to think about how much you're gonna miss him when you don't even know him that well.

_this sucks..._

You hear quick footsteps rushing towards you and you see Jesus walking your way with a smile on his face, happy to see that you're still here, waiting for him like you promised. One of his hand hidden behind his back tickling your curiosity.

" **W** hat'cha got there?" you ask curiously, trying to see what's behind his back.

" **S** omething of yours." he says with a huge sincere smile, excited to see your reaction, as he pulls out your denim backpack from behind his back, your bow sticking out of it, waiting for you to come fetch it which you quickly do. You grab it and hug it close to you, sighing happily.

" **T** hank you, thank you, thank you! But wh-"

" **I** had a feeling this day'll come eventually, just- not so soon I guess."

" **H** ow did y-"

" **S** tole it from one of Negan's truck, I'm sneaky like that."

Your smile quickly fades when you realize that he could get in serious trouble for this, " **J** esus, no, I can't take it back, you- what if he finds out? What's he gonna do to you? Are you fucking insane? What were you thi-"

" **S** hh, hey, calm down. Yeah, he'll probably figure it out but I'll be okay, I promise you that. No need to worry about me, you clearly have enough on your mind as it is. Now, c'mon, come here and let me give you a boost."

He bends down a small bit, lacing his fingers together and signals for you to climb on, so you do. He boosts you up high enough for you to grab the edge of the tall wall, once you get a firm grip on it, you use your arms to push yourself up the rest of the way and steadily straddle the wall putting one leg over it, stopping to look down at Jesus to mouth him a thank you, getting a smile from him, before swiftly throwing your other leg over the fence now close to leaving the small safe zone.

You look down and let out a shaky breath before quickly pushing yourself to jump off the high wall, crying out in pain when you fall on your ground. Your body throbbing in pain, your wounds not healed at all, and you're pretty sure you felt something rip open.

"[ **Y** /n], are you okay?" Jesus asks through the thick wall.

_no, i'm not, it hurts like a fucking bitch._

" **Y** up, I'm okay. I'm okay."

" **F** ucking hell, don't make me regret this. Please, take care of yourself, [y/n]."

" **I** promise." you're about to burst into tears, the idea of leaving Jesus behind tucking at your heart strings, but you decide to start moving instead of letting your sadness overwhelm you again.

_yeah, you cried enough today to cover the last two years ahead of us._

You head towards a small dirt road heading into a small forest nearby, putting your backpack back on your shoulders before sliding your bow and arrows out of it, keeping them firmly in your hand, ready for use.

You walk into the deepest part of the forest, trying to find a small spot to settle in for the rest of the night and eat something.

You end up settling in an hollow tree trunk, you easily get yourself in the little foyer before putting your backpack between your legs, opening it to check if you still had your candy bars in it and you have to stop a surprised and shocked gasp from leaving your mouth when you see that it's been fill to the brim with all types of things.

_fucking hell Jesus, what's your problem?_

You spot a small note sitting above everything else so you grab it expecting a fucking explanation for all this.

It reads; 

_**Well, if you're reading this it either means that you decided to join us and I seriously hope that we're best friends by now or it means that you took the way I kinda didn't want you to take and you tried to sneak out on me, it's okay, we're cool, I promise.** _

_**I know you have your reasons if you decided to leave, no judgments here.** _

_**I just hope that, wherever you are now, you're safe and as comfortable as possible.** _

_**It sucks that you didn't stick around but, like I said, I understand. You're a smart girl, you're strong, I'm a hundred percent sure that you're out there kicking asses already and I'm really proud of you.** _

_**I can't believe how much I got attached to you only after ten minutes of conversation, you're incredibly smart and seriously strong, like, it feels like nothing and no one can kill you but you, at least that's the vibe you give out.** _

_**Anyways- Shit, there you are sneaking around Gregory's house in the middle of the night, hi!** _

_**Good luck out there [y/n], go get 'em girl, I have so much faith in you and remember; you're always welcome here.** _

_**Now, if you'll excuse, I'm about to sneak up on you while you try to sneak out on me.**_

_**\- Jesus.** _

_**PS: I can already hear you laughing at the fact that I signed Jesus instead of Paul.** _

You bring the piece of paper close to your chest before taking in a deep breath and letting out a small laugh, a single tear rolling down your face.

_he saw you out there while he was writing this letter..._

It's insane how fast you can get attached to people even after everything you've been through, you just can't help it, that's who you are and it probably will never go away.

You slowly fold Jesus' letter and slide it in your jeans' pocket before looking back at your backpack. You dive in, looking at everything he stuffed in there and you see that the gauze, antiseptic product, the two bottles of water, your candy bars, your Gameboy and your butterfly knife are still here but now there's also a soft, fuzzy, black blanket that you immediately wrap yourself in inside the backpack as well as a bunch of medical supplies, a watch and a map with a small circle around a specific area reading: **HILLTOP**.

You smile before wrapping your new watch around your right wrist and examine it.

_finally, a working watch._

You also realize that he must have throw away the small, thick, razor blade that you used to keep hidden in a small pocket of the bag and you see another piece of paper sitting in it instead of the sharp blade and this one reads;

**_you deserve so much better [y/n], there's already so many things out there, looking for ways to hurt you._ **

**_you're the most lovable person walking this Earth don't you ever forget that, screw being modest go tell everyone what's what._ **

He didn't sign this one but you recognize his hand writing and you just feel so overwhelmed, you don't know what to do anymore, you want to run back to him and tell him how thankful you are that you got to meet him but you know you can't, you just hope he knows.

After a few minutes of being a complete mess of emotions, you hear loud groans echoing through the small forest.

" **C** an I catch a break?" you whisper angrily as you slowly stand up, shoving the warm blanket off of your body to stuff it back into your backpack. You then grab your bow and start walking again, tired, your body aching and your head spinning from all the information it just received.

 

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**4:15 AM :**

 

Finally out of the forest, you're now on a big road, your surroundings clearer and you quickly spot the sign of an old Dinner down the road.

_might be worth checking out._

You head towards the old installation ignoring a few walkers on the way there but you have to shoot three of them with your bow to clear the entrance of the Dinner. You pull your arrows out of their putrefied faces before going in, closing the doors behind you and blocking them with an heavy table, your body aching at the effort.

You then call out loudly to get whatever might be in the building to come out but, after a few minutes of pure stress, waiting in silence, your ears perked up; nothing. You relax a little and slowly put down your bow, keeping a firm grip on it, and you let yourself fall on a torn sofa sitting on a corner of the small restaurant, sighing deeply and scanning the place with curious eyes until feel your lids getting heavier and heavier before you finally fall asleep, your body falling on the soft couch, your breathing slowly getting heavier.

 

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**8:30 am /  Hilltop:**

 

" **A** lright, I'm gonna ask you one more fucking time doc and I want a good fucking answer this time. Here it goes; where in the fuck is she?"

" **I** -I told, I- I don't know Negan, her note was the only thing here this morning when I came to check on her, I swear."

Negan lets out a menacing laugh, slightly leaning his body backwards before punching the helpless man in front of him for the fourth time this morning, ordering his men to let go of him afterwards, letting the man's limp body fall unconscious on the floor but Negan pays no mind to him, he gets out of the room to angrily walk towards his next potential victims waiting for him down on their knees.

He smiles once he faces the people kneeling in front of him, they all look so scared, he feeds on that crap, " **A** lrighty! Nothing personal here folks but, yeah, actually it is pretty fucking personal. " he says to them but look directly at Jesus before walking menacingly towards him, " **W** here is she Paul? C'mon, be a buddy and I swear and I won't bash your skull in for taking her backpack from my goddamn hands."

" **Y** ou did something to her, didn't you?"

" **E** x-fucking-cuse me? I'm wounded by your accusations, I would never do such a thing." he says with a sarcastic smile but still meaning his words.

" **S** he was scared of something and you've spend the whole afternoon with her, you really expect me to believe you actually had a real conversation with her?"

Clearly amused but also pissed, Negan harshly grabs Jesus by the collar of his shirt just to drag him in the infirmary you were in a few hours ago before closing the door behind them.

" **S** it the fuck down, kid." he orders to Jesus while grabbing a chair to sit as well.

Paul carefully grabs a chair, petrified when he spots doctor Carson laying on the floor, his face bloody and swollen, unconscious. His expression clearly amuses Negan as the man lets out a small laugh.

" **H** e'll be fine, now, sit down before I fucking make you." he waits for the younger man to sit down in front of him, swinging his baseball bat around nonchalantly, silently telling Jesus to behave, " **Y** ou really thought I wouldn't put two and fucking two together? Her backpack disappears from my truck and you seriously thought I wouldn't come back to kick your ass, kid? No, it doesn't work like that. I'm seriously pissed. That shit is really fucking uncool."

" **T** hat's all she had, she's earned to keep it." Jesus slowly and carefully responds, looking Negan in the eyes, trying to keep a small amount of control on the situation.

" **Y** eah, you're fucking right kiddo, but I really fucking needed this damn bag."

" **W** hy? You people have everything you need, one more backpack won't change a thing."

" **Y** ou really don't fucking get it, do ya? I would have offer her the damn backpack if she took my lil' invite to join me at the Sanctuary, you stupid fuck."

" **W** hat the hell is wrong with you! Fucking hell! You scared her away, you're the reason she left. You must have creep her out with your harem bullshit, how in the holy fuck could you even believe for a damn second that she would accept that!? You've got issues, man. She deserves better than the shit you have to give her, I get why she left in such a hurry now." 

For some reason Negan gets set off when Jesus calls him out on the fact that you, indeed, do deserve better. He gets up from his chair and gets dangerously close to him, slowly raising Lucille.

" **L** isten here, shithead, not only did you take from me, helped one of my girls to run the fuck away and she could be anywhere by now, she could be fucking hurt, and now you're talking back at me? You got a death wish, dumb ass?"

" **S** ee, that's the thing, you're convinced that she needs help, that she might not make it on her own, but she's strong, stronger than you will ever be Negan. She's not coward, she's smart and it only took me a day with her to figure that out. She doesn't need you or anyone else. What do you want to know? I helped her get over the damn wall, gave her her stuff back and gave her supplies, that's it, she just vanished after that. She didn't know where to go either, or, at least that's what I understood."

" **W** hich side of the fucking wall, Jesus?" Negan asks through gritted teeth, clearly getting impatient.

Jesus only shook his head no which only led Negan to angrily punch the young man in the cheek before storming out of the room ordering his men to check the area outside of the safe zone while he orders Simon to stay with a few men to collect supplies as he gets into his own truck before driving away from the place.

" **S** tupid fucking kid." he spits bitterly as he looks around whilst driving, looking for you.

 

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**8:00 PM;**

He's spent the whole damn day driving around and using fuel but it's all worth it when he spots a dim light shinning through an old Dinner's windows. He parks his struck for the thousandth time today and he knows that he's gonna lose his shit if this turns out to be another dead end.

Killing the engine of the truck, he steps out of it an slowly gets closer to the building, Lucille in his gloved hand. He tries to get close enough to be able to look through the windows but he trips on something and almost fall, making him groan in frustration and anger.

Turning around, his grip on his bat tightens, ready the bash whatever tripped him but he freezes and smiles when he spots three limp bodies lying on the ground, one clean entry point on each head, right between the eyes, " **T** hatta girl." he grins, putting aside the fact that he's supposed to be mad at you for a second, taking his time to admire your clean work before walking around the building knowing damn well that you'll probably just run away again if you spot him.

He breaks through a broken window, pissed that you didn't block or secure it, which lands him into a small office before silently opening the door and pushing it open, only to be greeted by the sharp end of one of your arrows, aiming for his forehead, right between his eyes.

" **Y** ou're really loud, y'know?" you say to him, talking to him with confidence for the very first time ever since you two met.

" **S** hit, I'm usually the one sayin' that, darling." he gently laughs, careful not to trigger you into letting your arrow slide from your fingertips.

" **W** -what? Why d'you say that?" you tilt your head curiously to the side, slowly lowering your bow in confusion.

You look so lost and he gets off on how innocent you actually are, not getting any of his overly sexual jokes, " **N** ever mind, doll, c'mon, we're going-"

" **N** o, I'm not going anywhere with you, Negan." you answer really calmly which clearly pisses him off.

You can see his body tensing as he examines you, spotting fresh blood on your clothes, he quickly understands that the wound on your calve re-opened and he loses it, " **T** his is not a fucking discussion, I'm bringing you back with me and that's that. Fucking hell! You're really fuckin' stupid, you know that? What the hell came over you to just run away when you can't even fucking stand straight, for fuck's sake!"

You take a small step back, hurt by the fact that he seriously thinks that you can't overcome a few wounds. You slowly lower your weapon some more and let it hang loosely in your right hand before walking away from Negan to go back in the comfort of the small fire you've started in an old bin of the restaurant.

You can feel his gaze burning holes into your back but you try to ignore it and just go sit on the big brown sofa you fell asleep on earlier that day, putting your hands up above the warm fire burning in front of you and letting your bow rest at your feet, keeping in in arm-reach by habit.

You slowly tap the empty spot beside you, silently inviting Negan to sit next to you and, to your surprise, he takes the invitation. He slowly sits next to you completely silent and it's weird to you not to hear him curse or talk shit for once, it's a welcome change for your aching head.

" **Y** ou're hungry?"  you ask calmly, making him look at you in disbelieve as if you just handed him drugs, " **G** o ahead, blow your fuse, tell me all about how stupid I am. I know it's burning your tongue, Negan."

He looks outside before slowly settling Lucille on the floor next to him and grabs his walkie-talkie to radio one of his men.

" **B** oss, we have no signs of her so far, maybe we should-"

" **I** got her Dwight, call off the others and head back, it's getting dark."

" **O** h, yeah, okay. Sure thing, boss."

" **E** verythin' alright?"

" **Y** eah, everything's fine, everyone is safe, it's just- Uh."

" **S** pill it the fuck out, Dwight."

" **W** ell, what do I tell your wives? I mean, they're gonna ask where you are, y'know?"

" **Y** ou fucking tell them that it's none of their fucking business since they decided that they're better off sitting on their asses all day to paint their fucking nails and you tell them to go the fuck to sleep and not to cause any goddamn problems."

" **S** ure thing, boss. Be safe out there."

" **Y** eah, tell Simon I've put you in charge of the compound while I'm gone. Be back in two days starting tomorrow, got that?"

" **Y** es, boss. I'll keep things going, you can count on me, see you in two days then."

" **Y** eah." he sighs and puts the small device next to him on the couch, turning to look at you as if he's waiting for you to ask him about the conversation he just had with Dwight but you didn't actually really listen. You're just staring at the flames in front of you, lost in your thoughts until his hand gently tapes your shoulder to bring you back to him.

" **W** -what?"

" **W** e're staying here for tonight, s'too dark to move."

" **N** egan, you need to stop acting like I don't mean what I say. And, when I say that I'm not going anywhere with you, I freaking mean it!"

He laughs softly after hearing you say "freaking" instead of "fucking" even though you're clearly mad, it amuses him and it pisses you off.

" **O** h yeah, aha, real funny. I'm sorry to tell you but some people can actually form a sentence without saying the "f" word twenty times in a row, Negan."

" **C** 'mon, say it. Just once? For me, baby doll."

" **B** ack off, you're being annoying." you let yourself slide off the couch and wince when your butt makes contact with the hard ground; Negan's version of a spanking is seriously painful.

" **W** hat came over you, darling? Why d'you run away?"

" **I** dunno." you lie to him not wanting to tell him that the idea of him coming back to take you away scared you beyond belief and that you're also really scared of the idea of living a sightly normal life now.

You hear him move around on the couch and see him putting his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs, he lets out a sigh.

" **L** ook, I get it, the whole "wives" thing pissed you off and probably freaked you the hell out too and- look- fuckin' shit- I didn't mean for it to."

_was that an apology?_

" **S** 'okay... Negan?"

" **Y** eah, doll?"

" **W** hy two days?"

" **E** xcuse me?"

" **Y** ou said that you'll be gone for two days starting tomorrow, is your home so far away from here?"

He smiles and laughs before grabbing your face with his gloved hand, forcing you to look up at him, " **N** o, only takes a few hours to get there, I just want us to have some bonding time and shit."

" **S** ounds like a waste of our time, Negan."

" **A** nd I bet you that we'll be inseparable by the end of it."

" **W** hy don't you just kill me or let me be? I don't get it."

" **I** have my reasons, darlin'."

" **Y** ou're full of crap, y'know that?"

" **W** ow, you just hurt my feelings just now, how fucking rude of you, doll face."

He slowly lets himself fall down on the couch playing dead with a cocky smile on his lips and it actually gets a giggle out of you, " **D** amn, I fucking love that sound dolly." he says actually closing his eyes as if he wants to listen to you laugh on repeat.

You feel your cheeks heat up and turn your head not wanting him to see it.

" **U** gh, I'm still dying over here, doll. Aaand, I'm pretty sure that only a kiss'll bring me back to life, and you gotta put your heart and tongue into it."

You actually feel like playing along his stupid game and slowly get closer to his face, keeping yourself on the floor not wanting to have to climb on his body to get to his face, and, carefully, you lean into his ear to slowly whisper to him.

" **D** ie then, you prick."

You go back to your previous spot on the couch, the floor starting to numb your bum, and he slowly sits down with an amused expression on his face and a cocky smirk on his lips.

" **Y** ou're a fucking tease, angel, I like that."

If things can just stay like this for the next two days, spending time with Negan might not be as horrible as you originally feared it could be, maybe it'll be okay, just maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing first; not gonna lie here I actually had a blast writing the last part of this chapter 'cause the story is gonna get way more Negan/Reader centric from now on, so, yeah, I'm excited!
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes in there, probably are a lot but everything seems to hate me today and I can't concentrate to save my life so, yeah, I'm so sorry if there's really ridiculous and obvious mistakes and misspelled words and such. I just can't get anything right if all my stupid anxieties acting up.
> 
> Anyway! I love you guys so much, stay safe!
> 
> A/N: I DID NOT POST THIS STORY ANYWHERE ELSE BUT HERE SO IF YOU SEE IT ON TUMBLR AND SUCH PLEASE LET ME KNOW, PRETTY PLEASE, OKAY LOVE YOU.


	4. Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first day with Negan starts really early and isn't as calm as you wanted it to be.

A somewhat comfortable silence takes over the two of you, Negan's eyes still fixed on you while yours are locked on the fire in front of you, trying to ignore his heavy gaze.

" **D** 'you take a look around the place before getting comfortable, darlin'?"

" **Y** es."

" **Y** ou sure about that? 'Cause I fucking came in through a broken window, you saw that?"

" **Y** es, Negan, I saw it." you let out with a tired sigh, already knowing he's gonna get pissed and already getting tired of it.

" **T** hen why in the holy fuck didn't you cover it up or some shit? Are you really that fucking st-"

" **C** all me stupid one more time and I won't be responsible for my actions anymore."

You hear him let out a laugh and feel the spot on the couch dip next to you, his right shoulder making contact with your left one, " **S** tubborn. I was gonna say that you're really fucking stubborn, doll."

" **W** -what?"

" **Y** ou didn't cover that shit up 'cause you don't like feeling completely safe, do ya?"

_okay, i might have underestimated his ability to read people a bit..._

You slowly turn your head to look at him and realize that he's way closer to you than you originally thought he was. Without a word, you quickly get up, feeling uneasy after what he just pointed out and make your way towards the old Dinner's kitchen.

" **W** ant something to eat?"

You don't wait for his answer and push the big doors leading into the huge kitchen before making your way to the big stoves, turn the gas on on one of them before flicking your lighter over it, creating a bunch of small bright, blue and red flames. You jump and almost burn yourself when you hear a low whistle right in your left ear, making you turn around only to end up getting crushed into Negan's chest.

" **U** gh, ever heard of personal space?" you grumble, slightly annoyed and frustrated when you feel yourself blushing at how close you two are right now.

" **A** w, someone's grumpy, uh? How the hell do they still have gas in this place?" he says getting closer to the stoves to inspect them.

" **W** ell, the pipes were broken but I fixed one of them as best as I could... Y'know, giving the situation."

" **Y** ou got that shit working all by yourself?" he turns around to look at you, an amused smile slowly appearing on his face " **L** ike a big girl?"

" **A** ha, yeah, real funny, old man."

You watch as his smile gets bigger and he slightly leans back while letting out a laugh, " **D** a-a-mn! Here's that mouth Simon told me about!"

You turn away from him to fetch food from the small storage room connected to the kitchen, grabbing pastas and getting back out to the kitchen just to see Negan leaning against the counter top next to the lit stove, his eyes fixed on you but you pay no mind to him and just put the pastas next to the stove before putting water to boil on the fire.

You jump and sit down on top of a counter, kicking your feet slightly before looking back at Negan.

" **W** hat?"

" **O** ld man, uh?"

" **O** h, I'm sorry, did I hurt your ego? Well, why don't you go get some comfort from one of your many wives, Negan?"

He lets out a laugh but not a genuine one, a kinda pissed one before looking back at you, jaw clenched, " **W** atch your mouth darlin', remember who you're talking to."

You scoff at that, irritated by his gigantic ego, " **A** nd who, exactly, am I talking to, uh?"

" **T** he man that saved your pretty, sorry ass, girly."

You jump off the counter, now angry, your small hands clenched into fists.

" **Y** ou know what? No. I didn't ask for any of this crap you're putting me through! Your men literally dragged me to you, I was just doing fine, I didn't need saving!"

You don't let him answer knowing damn well that he'll just spit venom in your face and storm out of the kitchen to the storage room, reaching a small door that leads to a small closed place outside, slamming the said door shut behind you.

Once outside, you take a deep breath and look around you, you're surrounded by a fragile looking, thin, steel fence and there's a few walkers walking around the place, two of them spot you and come pushing again the metal fence so you walk towards them, stopping a few centimeters away from them.

_they look worse than they used to..._

You take another deep breath and reach for your knife, which is safely tugged in your jeans, before pushing the blade in between their eyes, watching as their limp bodies fall on the ground one after the other with a loud thump and you take a good look at them; a men and a women, seems like they died a long time ago too.

You feel a knot forming in the pit of your stomach and decide to ignore it as best as you can but your breath quickly gets out of control and you understand that a panic attack is about to take over you.

_no, not now, please. not with him around, please._

You get away from the fence and go sit down against the exterior wall of the Dinner, trying to calm yourself but your hands are shaking and you feel tears rolling down your face but no noises are coming out of your mouth, just tears.

_it fucking hurts..._

You bring your legs up to your chest and put your head into your knees, trying to breathe as best as you can but you just can't. Your whole body hurts and you feel like spikes are cutting through you with every breath you take. You slowly take the old shirt still tugged into your jeans, dangling on your hip, out, immediately feeling the warm feeling of the cotton on your skin, and bring it to up your face, nuzzling your nose into it.

" **D** ad, I'm so scared. I'm so scared." you whisper repeatedly into the soft shirt that once belonged to your father, trying to calm yourself down.

" **I** 'm sure he's really fuckin' proud of you, angel."

Negan's voice makes you look up slightly and you cry out in frustration, he wasn't supposed to see you like this. But, to your surprise, he seems genuinely concerned as he carefully sits down on the ground next to you, " **Y** -you weren't- you're not su-supposed to- you're not supposed to see me like that- I-"

You're overwhelmed with your tears and you feel like you're about to explode when you realize that you're letting him see just how vulnerable you are and you hate it. You hate that it doesn't feel as wrong as it should in your mind.

" **H** ey, t's'okay, baby doll, c'mere." he says as he gently wraps his arms around you to bring you close to him, forcing you to straddle him as he slowly gets back up on to his feet, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you back inside, gently hushing you, trying to calm you down, " **Y** ou're fucking freezing, angel."

He gently drops you on the couch and takes his leather jacket off to slip it on your shaking frame, gently closing it before kissing your forehead.

" **G** onna get you some' to eat, you stay there, be right back."

He leaves to get back into the kitchen and you realize he actually cooked while you were out and the idea makes you smile a little.

You bend over to get your backpack, which is still sitting on the floor, and grab it, pulling it on your thighs to pull out the warm fuzzy blanket Jesus gave to you, and wrap your shaking body in it.

Negan comes out of the kitchen with two fuming plates in his hands and puts them on the small coffee table in front of you before sitting down on the couch and taking his glove off of his hand, leaning to grab a plate and pushing yours to you.

" **M** 'not hungry, but, th-thanks."

" **L** isten, darlin', I get it. You feel like crap and I'm sorry, but you gotta eat something."

You just shook your head no and let your body fall on the couch, hearing Negan let out an heavy sigh.

" **F** orget what happened out there, please." is the last thing you tell him before feeling your eyes closing heavily.

 

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 **3:00 AM** :

Your eyes slowly open, your head aches and it hurts when you breathe but you still manage to slowly get up, careful not to wake Negan up as he's sleeping right next to you. Rubbing your eyes awake, you see that your plate is still waiting for you on the table in front of the couch so you take it and silently walk away to get to the bar sitting in the middle of the old place, sitting down on one of the old stools.

You look down at your watch with a smile on your face, it's cool to finally be able to know exactly what time and day it is, before looking up at the plate sitting on the counter but your appetite just isn't there so you get back up and silently get back towards the couch to see that the fire you've started yesterday is almost dying.

Carefully not make too much noise, you reach for your backpack and put the bible you took back at the church out, tearing some more pages from it before throwing them in the bin, feeding the fire.

" **S** ome people would be pissed to see you burn a bible, darlin'." Negan says, his voice way lower and scruffier as he just woke up.

" **W** ell, some people are really stupid then 'cause, when you don't have a choice, you make do."

Negan slowly sits down, rubbing his eyes awake like you did seconds prior to that before looking at you, " **Y** ou ate somethin'?" he says gesturing the now empty spot of the coffee table where your plate used to be.

" **N** o, I tried but- I can't."

He leans further back into the couch, running his hands over his face, " **W** hat happened to you, baby doll?"

" **I** told you to just forget about it, okay? You caught me in a moment you weren't supposed to, so, just drop it. Please." you turn your head slightly to take a look at him and take your time to examine him; his knuckles are bloody, bruised and slightly open and his white t-shirt is clinging to his chest and shoulders, " **I** s he okay?"

" **W** ho the hell are you talking about, darlin'?"

" **J** esus, did you hurt him?" you ask, making him sit back up and look at you, confusion written all over his face, " **I** \- uh, I didn't spend my whole day here yesterday, Negan," you admit, pulling nervously at your fingers, "I went to the Sanctuary too, like, inside."

" **E** x-fucking-cuse the shit outta me?"

" **I** tr-tracked down the tracks your trucks left on the road and I went in. I saw- well, just about everything and- I heard one of your men saying that "some prick" stole from you and that you went to "shove Lucille up his ass"... So, is he okay?"

" **Y** ou actually sneaked inside my fucking place, doll?"

" **Y** es."

He looks at you in pure disbelieve and... admiration? " **M** other of fucking God. So, shit, what d'you think?"

" **Y** our bedroom is overdone, like, way over the top and your wives all look like charity cases but your workers sure are something, the place is pretty big and using walkers, having them guard the place is actually a really smart move." 

" **Y** ou went in my bedroom, sweetheart?" he says with a smirk on his lips.

" **W** -well yeah, I didn't know it was your room though... 'til I walked in..."

He laughs and he looks at you with a sincere smile on his face, " **H** e's fine, promise."

" **O** kay."

" **W** hat's with you two, anyway?"

" **W** -what?"

" **C** 'mon, darling, you're not asking me how he's doing just to ask."

" **E** xcuse me? Wow, look Negan, people can actually care about each other without expecting to get something out of it okay? What's wrong with you!"

" **F** air enough." he says dropping back on the couch still looking at you.

" **O** kay, do whatever you want but I'm moving." you say as you get off the couch, grab your backpack and start walking around to make sure that you're not forgetting anything.

" **W** hat the hell do you mean you're "moving"? You're not going anywhere, it's still dark out."

" **I** have a flashlight."

His hand harshly grabs your left forearm making you wince in pain as your wounds still haven't healed and his grip seems to loosen up a bit afterwards but he keeps a firm hand on you, pulling you flush against his body, " **Y** ou're really fucking stubborn, princess, but, when I fucking say something? You listen, am I fucking clear or do I have to let Lucille remind you?"

" **N** o! No, I'll listen, I promise." you say, scared at the idea of a reunion with Lucille.

He laughs and kisses the top of your head before caressing your face with his right thumb, " **G** ood girl, now, was that so complicated?"

_yes, t'was..._

You feel yourself blush at the praise and let your head down, looking at the ground, but Negan's hand comes to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He has a smile on his face still, " **W** as it?"

" **N** -no."

" **Y** ou're gonna have to learn to behave and listen to me, kitten, 'cause I won't have you giving me attitude back at the Sanctuary, are we clear?"

" **I** -" you hesitate for a second but decide to stay strong and stand your grounds, " **I** 've already told you, I'm not going anywhere with you, Negan."

He's about to answer when loud banging noises shut him up, you both look at the giant windows of the Dinner to see that there's a bunch of walkers scratching the glass and banging on it.

" **I** s it still too dark for your liking or can we get a move on, now, your majesty?"

He glares at you, pissed off 'cause he knows you're right, " **F** ucking shit, let's go then."

You head towards the couch to pull out the fire still burning in the bin and go back to Negan to grab your backpack and put it on your shoulders, your bow in hand.

" **W** ait, before we leave, you found anything useful in here?"

" **N** o, the only food left was the pastas you cooked last night, the place was empty."

_okay, that's a lie._

" **A** lright then, let's fucking go."

He grabs your hand and rushes the both of you towards the small office he came in through but not without stopping to get Lucille, which was still lying on the couch, first.

" **L** adies first." he says with a smile.

You let out a sigh and try to get a hold on the small opened window but quickly realize that it's too high for you to reach, you hear Negan laughing behind you and feel his hands firmly grabbing your waist, pulling you up without so much as a grunt of effort and, once you crawled out, he hands you his bat and you feel yourself hesitating to take it.

" **C** 'mon, doll, she doesn't bite unless you piss her off or you ask real nicely, promise."

You take Lucille in your small hands and wait for Negan to come up but you hear walkers coming around the Dinner clearly attracted by the noise, " **N** egan?"

" **H** old on, darlin', gotta block the door, fuckers broke in the fucking place, just stand your fucking grounds."

You hear him swear as he tries to block off the door of the office but he clearly is having trouble so, without even thinking, you jump back down through the window and his eyes widen when he spots you.

" **W** hat in the holy fuck are doing in here!"

" **I** 'm helping you, you jerk."

You push him off the door and quickly replace him, you get pushed around through the wooden door as the dead don't seem to give up on the idea of getting in.

" **G** et out of here!"

" **L** ike hell I am, I'm not leaving you in this shithole! Are you fucking insane?!"

" **J** ust trust me, please, Negan." you give him a small nod and a pleading look as he groans out in frustration.

" **W** hat's the fucking plan here?!"

You don't have time to answer as the walkers in the building start to lose patience and push harshly on the door, forcing you to apply more of your body weight into it to keep it closed.

" **N** egan, please! I'm smaller and faster than you, I can easily out-run them, just get out of here!"

He takes a step back and decides to trust you even though he's scared shitless at the idea of your plan not working out.

He gets a hold of the broken window and easily lift himself up, getting out of the small office, once he's out, he quickly grabs Lucille and looks around for any signs of threat, nothing.

"[ **Y** /n]?" he calls out for you as he push himself down on the floor to look through the small window he just came out of, panicking when he sees that the small room is now filled with limp bodies, no signs of you.

" **C** 'mon, doll, this shit ain't funny, where the fuck are you?" he whispers to himself.

" **H** ey."

He jumps up when he hears your small voice ringing through his ears and takes a look at you. From head to toe, you're covered in blood and guts and you have a small, shy, smile on your face.

" **F** ucking hell, doll, how the hell- what-"

" **T** old you I'll handle it... Guess we're even now, you saved my ''sorry'' ass and I saved yours."

He sighs and grabs your face in his hands, once again forcing you to make eye contact with him, " **I** didn't mean it like that, baby doll."

You try to look down but his hands firmly keep your head in place.

" **W** -we should- we should get going."

He whispers a soft "yeah" before grabbing your hand again, walking you towards his truck that's still parked in front of the Dinner, he takes a quick look around as he spots a bunch of corpses on the floor, your bloody footprints in the middle of it all.

" **G** ood fucking God! I knew you were an adorable little killing machine. Look at this fuckin' mess, baby doll."

_i'm just gonna take this as the compliment... i guess... meh._

He looks back at you with a smile as he opens the door on the passenger side of his truck for you and you slowly get in before he closes the door behind you, making his way in front of the vehicle to get to the the driver's seat, once he's settled in, you look at him and hesitate a bit before asking.

" **N** ow, what?"

" **W** ell, now, we're gonna go look for a nice fucking house to stay in for tonight and we'll see where we go from here, how about it?"

" **S** ounds good to me." you say looking out the window and sighing deeply.

_how did we get into this fucking mess?_

He starts the truck and gets on the road, driving to God knows where as he whistles and seems to be pretty at ease with the whole situation. You look around the cabin and spot something shiny on the dash so you gently grab it to see what it is but Negan's voice makes you jump slightly.

" **W** ouldn't recommend you look at this crap, angel. Just sayin'."

Your curiosity grows bigger at his words and you decide to still look at the small item that you now realize is a picture, you bring it close to you to look at it and choke when you see that it's a photograph of a completely bashed head, the person's body is completely untouched but his head has been smashed to pieces, you feel sick to your stomach.

_who does that? what the fuck?_

" **W** -what- Negan- What i-is that?" 

" **T** his, darling, is how I deal with my problems, bash 'em." he says with a proud smile on his face.

Without even thinking twice, your reach for the handle on your door and open it, making Negan stop the truck abruptly.

" **W** here the hell do you think you're going?"

" **I** 'm not staying with you, I'm gonna be sick."

You grab your backpack and jump off the seat, slamming the door of the truck before you start to head back into the woods like you usually would but it's without counting on Negan to stop you.

" **U** nless you want to end up like this son of a bitch you better get your ass back in the fucking truck, darlin'."

His voice is low, menacing and it scares you. You feel your body shaking and tears filling your eyes, " **D** o it."

He furrows his eyebrows and gets out of the truck, not even bothering to turn the engine off, before slowly walking towards you, making you step back and away from him.

" **Y** ou're asking me to fucking kill you?"

" **Y** -yes."

And, as he already did once, he completely changes the topic to avoid having to tell you that he just can't imagine hurting you on purpose, let alone kill you so brutally, " **A** lright, listen the fuck up here, darling. I'm gonna ask you one more fucking time; what happened to you?"

You let out a loud sob and curl into a tree behind you, you don't want to tell him anything about you but you also really do. You need someone to talk to, someone to help you carry all this weight you have on your shoulders, you can't do it all by yourself anymore.

_what the hell is happening to me?_

" **I** \- I can't-"

" **Y** es, you can, and you fucking will, but not here though. We're gonna find a place to stay first, c'mon, angel."

He gets a hold of your shaking body, carrying you back to his struck, shutting the door once he's put you in your sit and runs back to his side, slamming the door on his side and getting the truck back on the road.

It's a long, silent drive and you let a small yet sincere smile appear on your face as you get to see the very first rays of sun, the sky colored with a soft pink.

The truck comes to a stop, snapping you out of your daydream.

" **H** ere." Negan says, turning the keys in the ignition and shoving them in his pocket before getting out of the truck and you follow, confused as to what he means by "here".

" **T** here's... nothing _here_." you say, looking around once you're out of the vehicle, there's nothing but woods surrounding you.

" **I** know, c'mere" he says gesturing you to come to him as he stands in front of his big black truck, you look at him confused but still do as you're told.

" **W** ha-"

You let out a surprised squeal as he lifts you up above him and orders you to grab on the edge of the truck, you do still slightly confused and push yourself the rest of the way, settling on top of the truck's roof, gasping when you see that, from here, you can see the sunrise perfectly.

You're so into it, you don't even realize that Negan followed you up and is now looking at you, amused and satisfied to see you in awe in front of the scenery.

" **B** etter?"

" **B** etter."

You quickly realize that, once again, it's his way of saying "sorry" without having to say it out loud but it doesn't matter to you. You've only met him two days ago and you're already tired of fighting with him so you don't question anything he does anymore, you just let things be.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: as usual, I'm super anxious and I feel like throwing up BUT I still proofread and fixed whatever mistakes I've found but there still might be some left 'cause I get so anxious that I make the most stupid mistakes while writing sometimes so, I'm sorry.
> 
> Also! There's going to be a serious talk about the OFC violent past in the next chapter so be aware of that and ALSO there's going to be "contact" -yes Houston, physical contact, we do have a freaking problem- between the reader and Negan so, yeah, that's happening.


	5. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " [...] You're mine, baby girl. All fucking mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING;  
> THERE IS MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE/ CHILD NEGLECT AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE, IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE TO THE TOPIC -which is perfectly understandable- BE CAREFUL WHILE READING.
> 
> HERE'S WHERE THE SENSITIVE PART STARTS;  
> "Try me doll."  
> AND IT END AT THIS LINE;  
> "[...]don't ever let me catch you talk down on yourself like that."

Everything is so calm and, for a short instant, it's just you. You shut everything out, erase Negan too, and just let yourself get lost at the sight of the rising sun.

For a short instant, it feels right to be alive.

For a short instant, you feel like things aren't as wrong as they seem.

Just for a short instant, you allow yourself to take pride in the fact that you've made it that far all by yourself.

You take pride in never needing anyone, in never being greedy when it'll be easy for you to be in this world, in never letting the bad things you've been through take your humanity away from you, in never losing sight of who you truly are and who you used to be.

You've made it through thick and thin and, even though you're all bruised and a little lost now, you're still here, you're still going strong.

You're the most human person on left this planet and you don't even realize it. **A gentle soul is power and strength** , _not weakness_. It's so easy to let the bad of this world take over you but; being soft? Now that's power right there.

" **W** hat's on your mind, darlin'?" Negan's voice pops the bubble you've created around you and brings you back to this harsh reality of yours.

" **Y** ou were wrong - about me not wanting to feel completely safe. It's not that I don't want to, it's- It's more complicated than that." you confess to him, not answering his previous question, feeling the need to vent.

" **T** ry me, doll." he says inviting you to openly talk to him.

" **H** ave you- Have you ever been hurt, like, r-really bad?" you ask looking down at your hands.

" **N** ah, seems like I've always been the bad guy of the story." he says, looking at you.

" **O** h..."

" **H** ow 'bout you, baby doll? I mean, it's pretty damn obvious you've been fucked over but, shit, I might be wrong, y'know?"

" **I** -uh-" you let out a nervous laugh, pulling at your now shaking fingers, " **M** y mom."

" **W** hat about her?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious and eager to know more about you.

" **I** don't- Well, I don't r-really know. My dad he- He got into a c-car accident and I uh- I was with him but, well obviously, I survived... He- he didn't though." you feel tears coming and your throat tightening, just mentioning him hurts, " **M** -my mom- she uh- she changed after that day. She, I-I can't, Negan I can't."

" **B** ut you need to. Don't you, angel?" he's right, you hate to admit it but you do need to tell someone about what happened. You never did, too scared that something would happen to your mom because of it, but, now, well, she's gone, no one can take her away from you, it already happened.

" **I** t started with r-really mean words, you know? S-she'd tell me that- That it should have been me, not him and that-" you take a deep, shaky, breath, "that I took the only person she ever loved away from her, that she hated me, that she wanted me dead." you force a smile to try and look like you're not about to break in front of him but miserably fail and let a small, sad smile appear on your lips instead, " **S** he uh-she started to b-beat me up, she tried drowning me once but most of the time she would lock me in my closet for hours, even for days sometimes... She w-would just leave me in there, she stopped feeding me, forced me to drink alcohol too-"

You look up at Negan to see his jaw clench and his eyes full of anger and- _is that sadness?_ Your body starts to shake and you let out yet another nervous laugh and force yourself to smile, " **B** ut, hey, some people have it way worse."

" **J** esus fucking Christ, [y/n]." his eyes are looking straight into yours.

_it's so weird to hear him say our name instead of the usual pet names..._

" **K** eep goin', doll. Let it the fuck out."

" **I** 'm just making you angry, aren't I?" you say, crying now, before bringing your legs to your chest to try and feel a small bit safer.

" **I** 'm not mad at you, lil' one."

You let the left side of your head rest on your right knee, Negan sitting to your right, now looking at him as you try to finish what you've just started, " **S** he just didn't stop, y'know? She just- kept pouring alcohol into my mouth until I'd fall unconscious, she- she'd just leave me here just- just f-for me to wake up hours later and throw my guts up, I just- I- I was just a little girl you know? I- I loved her so much despite everything... I was only seven for God's sake. I g-grew up so fast you know? I had to. She loved me too, I think? I- I dunno... All I know is that- When she'd get drunk, like, really drunk, she would come into my room and j-just sit on the bed next to me and cry- She- She'd apologize and tell me that she loved me and I believed her, every single time, I would tell her that everything was gonna be alright, that we'd make it but we never did. She was back to hating me the morning after and I just- I just took it, 'cause I loved her- I loved her so much, Negan." you let out another nervous laugh, " **I** 'm that pathetic. I was so scared of being alone, I still am, I hate being alone."

" **I** don't ever want to hear you say that shit again, darlin'. What she did to you? Now that's fucking pathetic, you survived this shit, you survived being mistreated by one of the two persons that's supposed to love you no fucking matter what, I don't see pathetic in that, so, don't you ever let me catch you talkin' down on yourself like that."

Before you can even build up the energy to answer him, his arms are grabbing your body, making you straddle him, pushing you against him.

" **Y** -your skin is so cold" you say as you reach out to touch his arms, " **I** 'm s-such a brat. I'm w-wearing your jacket while y-you're out here i-in the cold with only a shirt on."

He lets out a small laugh and kisses the top of your head before tightening his grip on your body and you let out a surprised squeal when you feel him jump off the roof of the truck whilst carrying you, " **I** 'm not cold darling, but you, you're fucking freezing though, even with my jacket on. So, back into the truck we go."

He opens the passenger's door and slips you into the cabin before carefully closing the door and going around to his side. Climbing in and starting the engine, he looks at you with a small smirk, " **Y** ou're still down for some house hunting, darlin'?"

" **C** an we try to find one with a fireplace?" you ask nervously, playing with your hair.

" **F** uck yes, we can, doll face."

A surprisingly comfortable silence takes over in the small cabin of the truck and you slowly relax into your seat, looking out the window but you feel Negan's eyes on you and it makes you squirm uncontrollably in your seat.

" **W** -what is it?"

" **Y** ou just look really fuckin' good with my jacket on, baby girl."

You feel yourself blush and it actually feels like your skin is on fire. You nervously bite down on your lip, an old habit of yours, and jump when you hear him let out a groan.

" **D** on't- bite your lip, angel."

" **S** -sorry I- Sorry."

You're confused as to why on Earth you biting your lip is such a bad thing but you don't ask questions, you just look back out the window and wait for him to stop when he'd have find a place he'll think suitable for you two to spend the night in.

After of couple minutes of driving, you spot a really cute looking house and jump excitedly on your seat earning a laugh from Negan.

" **S** ee one you like, baby doll?" he asks with a small grin, clearly amused by your excited little jump.

" **L** ook at this one. Think we could at least check it out?" you ask, looking at him, giving him unintentional puppy eyes.

He drives further into the small village you've been driving through for at least thirty minutes now and parks in front of the house you've spotted before looking at you with a cocky smirk on his face, " **F** 'course we can angel, but you gotta say please first."

_one day I'll smack that arrogant smirk off of your stupid handsome face, you jerk..._

" **P** -please, Negan?"

" **G** ood girl." he praises with an extremely arrogant and satisfied grin on his lips.

You turn away from him, your cheeks seriously burning you and clumsily reach for the handle on the door to quickly pull it open and jump off the truck, eager to put some distance between you and the man. You get an hold on your backpack and your bow before slamming the heavy door shut. Negan mirrors your actions before jogging to your side of the truck with Lucille in hand and a smile on his face.

" **O** kay, now, I'm gonna go clean the place up, you wait for me h-"

" **N** o, I'm not waiting for you anywhere." you protest, making him frown, " **I** 'm going in with you and that's that."

You're both surprised by your sudden outburst and Negan gives you the exact same look he gave you when you spat on him the first time you two officially met, " **W** hat did I fucking say about misbehaving and talking back?"

" **I** \- I'm going in with or without you... I don't need you anyways."

You go past him and walk towards the house, forcing the front door open with your shoulder and going in, not bothering to wait for him.

_you don't get to tell me what to do out here, you ass._

You slam your small fist against one of the four walls of the main hall, waiting, listening for any kind of noises or movements. When you hear loud noises echoing through the house, you carefully head further into it and spot a walker laying at the end of a huge staircase, struggling to get back on its feet after it just feel down the stairs.

_explains the commotion._

You slowly get down on your knees and carefully take your butterfly knife out of your jeans to push it through its putrefied skull. After the body goes limp on the floor, you slowly get back up and head up the stairs when you hear scratching noises on one of the wooden doors of the first floor and, as you get closer to it, you see that it's decorated with a pink plank of wood and gold paint, it reads; " _ **Heather**_ ".

You start to panic and immediately call out for Negan, knowing damn well that you're not gonna be able to face what might be behind that door.

" **T** hought you didn't need me, dolly." his voice is loud and his tone arrogant as he makes his way towards you.

" **N** -negan, please- I can't." you say as you gesture him towards the door.

He furrow his eyebrows, confused as to what is it you can't do but he quickly understands when he hears the noises coming through the white door in front of you, " **G** o wait for me downstairs, [y/n]."

" **Y** -you sure you don-"

He glares at you with a tight jaw, clearly silently warning you not to talk fight him on this one and, at that, you give him a quick nod and head back down the stairs just to look at the dead women laying at the end of the staircase.

You sigh and drag the dead body to the backyard of the house, which is surrounded by a white fence, before carefully letting go of the body and heading back into the house to search the kitchen, looking for alcohol to help you burn the corpse but, as you finally find a bottle of pure alcohol, you stop dead in your tracks when you hear loud crushing noises coming from upstairs and after a while, you hear Negan walking down the stairs, whistling.

_what the hell is wrong with this man?_

He comes into the kitchen and carefully brings his bat on the top of the island sitting in the middle of the room, and, as you take a good look at Lucille, you see that the bat is baked in fresh blood and pieces of flesh; you feel like throwing up.

" **W** ha- What d'you do?"

" **Y** 'know, the usual, left her in her room though, put her in her bed and locked the door."

_he actually put her in her bed? that's such a gentle gesture coming from him..._

And, as if he can read your mind, you hear him let out a small laugh, " **H** ey, I'm a dick but I'm not a fucking monster, darlin'."

" **I** -I didn't- I never thought you were."

He seems surprised by your words and you take the opportunity to sneak back out in the backyard to finish what you've started. You slowly pour the flammable liquid on the limp body laying on the grass before looking through your backpack to get your lighter out.

" **I** hope that you're at peace now and- And that you don't mind us staying in your house."

You flick the lighter to create a small flame before kneeling down and grabbing the women's old, completely torn out, t-shirt, letting the small flame feed on the tissue. In a few minutes, the body is burning slowly in the grass.

You slowly turn away from the body, letting it burn at its own pace, just to find Negan looking at you through the kitchen's window. You drag yourself back inside the house with heavy feet and directly go in the living room to let yourself fall on the big leather couch sitting in the middle of the big room.

" **W** hat d'you say to her, baby doll?" Negan asks as he sits down next to you on the couch.

" **U** h?"

" **I** saw you saying something to her. What was it?"

_okay this is awkward, he actually saw you talking to a corpse..._

" **O** h, I- uh... Just that I hope that she's peaceful." you say, nervously look at him, " **S** o," you start trying to break the awkward silence "now what?" you ask, yet again.

" **G** ood fuckin' question, baby girl."

" **W** ow, thanks. Helpful information right there." he lets out a small laugh as you sink down on the comfy couch, sighting loudly, " **I** 'm sorry by the way."

" **A** bout what, darlin'?" he asks, clearly confused.

" **A** bout this morning, you uh- I- I shouldn't have told you what I told you, t'was stupid."

Silence slowly starts to take over between the two of you yet again but Negan is quick to break it, " **I** lost my fucking wife, darlin'. Cheated on her... Only realized how fucked up it was when she got diagnosed with cancer. I felt like shit, she knew I wasn't faithful but she never kicked me out of her life for some goddamn reason. She ended up dying after everything went to shit, ain't a damn thing I could've done to help her anyway, y'know?"

_well shit, call me Gerald and kick me in the balls..._

" **W** -why are you telling me this? I mean, don't get me wrong! I'm happy you did but- why?"

He looks at you with a smile on his face, " **W** ell, you decided to trust me and actually opened up to me a little so, now, we're even, baby girl."

" **W** as her name L-Lucille?"

" **Y** eah."

_he gave the bat he uses to slaughter people the name of his dead wife... how the hell am i supposed to feel about this? hell, i'm probably not supposed to feel any kind of way about it... it's his life after all, guess we all have our ways to deal with death._

" **I** never kissed anyone- I'm still a virgin. My best friend was a dying seventy-three years old lady, I have a plushy in my backpack that I've been carrying around ever since my dad gave it to me on my third's birthday, it's a white lamb... and, I talk a lot when I'm nervous 'cause I don't like complete silence, it makes me really nervous so I kinda throw everything and anything out just to fill it... Like I'm doing right now, God, please say something."

You slowly turn your head to see him smiling, clearly amused at how panicked you got after his confession, " **Y** ou never got your first kiss, baby doll?"

" **N** -no, I guess- I guess I had other things to worry about, you know? And n-now, well- now I clearly have other things to be doing as well." you confess with a nervous laugh as you pull at your fingers once again until Negan's hands grab yours to drag you close to him, your body collapsing into his and you feel your cheeks burning again when you feel the tip of his nose touching your forehead.

" **L** ook at me, darling." you slowly look up and end up face to face with him, your noses now touching and his lips are so close to yours it makes you wanna cry, " **W** ould you be okay if I happened to be your first, angel?"

You swallow loudly, making him laugh, before biting down on your lip. You look straight into his eyes and, before you know it, you feel your head slowly nodding up and down as his smile turns into a smirk.

" **J** ust follow my lead, baby doll." he whispers, pressing you against him a little bit more.

You don't have time to regret your decision as his lips gently crash into yours and you feel like you're about to explode. You panic, not knowing what to do but, when you feel one of his hands grabbing the back of your neck while the other comes to cup your jaw, it just feels so right, you simply do as he said and follow his lead; you even allow yourself to relax a little bit against his chest.

One of your shaking hands carefully goes up to his face, barely touching his salt and pepper beard with the very tip of your fingers, your touch is so shy and soft that he can barely feel it but he does and that's all that matters, really.

The minutes go by and your small, innocent, kiss slowly starts to turn into something more. You slightly pull back, surprised, when you feel his tongue running across your bottom lip, making him laugh against your lips as he bits down on it and slowly pulls away from you, taking your bottom lip with him before letting go of it to carefully watch it bounce back against your upper lip.

You thought he was going to say something to you, give you one of his cocky, kinda rude, and unnecessary little speech but he barely gives you the time to realize what just happened before he's back to attacking your already swollen to hell lips again. Pushing you down into the couch, he hovers over you as his tongue slips out again but this time he doesn't gently wait for you to get the message, he just pushes his way through your lips and immediately swirls his tongue against yours.

Your eyes snap open, and you didn't even realize that they closed a long time ago, as a small, needy, noise comes out of the back of your throat making Negan groan and smile into the kiss. You just moaned. Negan just made you moan and you can feel your cheeks burning red again but it doesn't make you pull away from him, no; you actually finally take a little part in it and slowly push your tongue back against his which seems to be all he needed as he starts to become way more dominant towards you.

He harshly grabs both your hands, pinning them above your head with only one of his as the other hand slowly comes down around your throat, getting a gasp out of you. He pulls back from your lips, out of breath but with a cocky smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and takes a good look at you; your eyes are still close, your lips are swollen and shiny, you look like a mess and all he did was kiss you.

" **F** uckin' shit, baby girl. You look so fucked out right now." you can feel his breath hitting your wet lips as he speaks, "You're mine, princess. All fuckin' mine."

" **A** -all yours." you don't even realize what you just let out, you're too out of it to have any kind of filter between your mouth and your brain.

" **G** ood girl."

He slowly drops his head into the crook of your exposed neck, biting, nibbling and sucking on the skin there until his teeth graze a ticklish spot right below the right side of your jaw, making your hips buck against his and getting a needy noise out of your mouth as you feel him biting and harshly sucking on said spot.

You quickly try to cover your face with your hands, embarrassed at the fact that you just rubbed yourself against him like a damn bitch in heat, but his hand is still tightly wrapped around your wrists, keeping you from moving. You wiggle around, trying to avoid eye contact with him but he harshly grabs your face with his free hand.

" **F** uckin' fuck, baby girl. You keep makin' noises like these and I won't be able to control my goddamn self anymore."

He carefully looks at the mark he just made right below your jaw and grins down at you. You're out of breath, your cheeks tainted with a bright red, your eyes wide and your whole body is shaking. He completely wrecked you and it makes perfect for his ego and self-esteem.

He never felt so turned on in his entire life which is kind of odd considering that he's been with, and still is with, many women before but you? You're way different, you're something else, he can't quite put his finger on it; all he knows is that he's not willing to let go of you which kind of pisses him off. He never planned on catching feelings, quite the opposite actually.

He completely zones out for a second, his thumb is gently caressing your lower lip and slowly trails up to your cheek, feeling how hot it is, as he slowly comes back to reality and he looks really confused.

" **D** -did I- Have I done something wrong?"

He laughs gently before stealing a kiss from you, " **O** f course not, baby doll. Hell, you did something very fuckin' right, actually."

You blush a little harder and giggle nervously underneath him which makes him smile as he bends down to kiss your forehead, " **I** don't let people talk back to me y'know? That kind of shit pisses me off more than you could ever imagine, but - when you do it? Goddamn, if it doesn't make my dick rock hard, dolly. Hell, I don't let people do half the shit you do around me without getting their ass beat... What the hell are you doing to me, woman?"

" **W** hat about y-your-"

" **H** ell no, these women don't talk to me like you do either. Hell, darlin', they're not what they are now for no fucking reason. They're weak, they can't stand up for their fucking selves."

" **I** -I'm not like that, I can't just depend on someone, I just- I hate that kind of behavior it's so- So easy... Not that I have anything to say about these women, I don't know them but- I just don't want to get to know them... They just d-don't appeal to me... At all."

He's still laying on top of you, your hands still pinned above your head, and it feel seriously weird to have such a serious conversation in such an intimate position, " **Y** eah, I get it, princess. But- Fuckin' shit, I'm not letting you go."

" **N** egan-"

" **I** t's not fuckin' negotiable doll, no matter what happens next? It happens with you working with me."

" **H** ow about I work _for_ you?"

" **N** o-"

" **H** ear me out, please Negan." he lets out a frustrated sigh and let his forehead drop back against yours, " **L** et's say I come back with you-"

" **I** like that idea."

" **S** hush. So, how about I come back with you but... I'm free to go out whenever I feel the need to, everything I'll find out there I'll bring back to you, promise-"

" **P** rincess-"

" **L** et me finish. I don't sleep in your parts of the place. I want a room where your workers sleep."

" **D** id you take a look at them? No private bathroom, only a fucking bed and a dresser, these rooms are a strict fucking minimum, doll."

" **N** o, I haven't, actually, but I don't care about any of this. I don't want to see or share my space with any of the charity cases you keep in your headquarters, Negan."

He lets out a defeated sigh and pushes his nose against yours, " **I** f I agree to all of this shit, you'll come back with me? No questions asked?"

" **O** nly if you promise me that I'll be able to have my room with the rest of your workers, that I'll be able to get out of the compound whenever I want, no questions asked, and that I'll get to live and work with everyone else and not for and with your trophies."

" **W** ouldn't call 'em trophies, darlin'." he smirks, "You sure you've seem all of them?" he says with a laugh and you can help the giggle that comes out of you. Yeah, it's a mean ad fucked up joke but you don't really care.

_which is really unlike you to let a man make fun of a woman's appearance, let alone laugh along??_

" **F** uckin' fuckidy fuck, baby doll... You're a tough lil' cookie, aren't you?"

" **I** 've been told, yeah."

" **O** kay. I promise. And I'm a man of my fuckin' words."

_what? did he just- what?_

" **R** -really?"

" **Y** eah, we'll head back tomorrow morning. I'll tell my men to let you out whenever you fuckin' want but, I want you to tell whoever the fuck opens the gate to you how much time you're gonna spend out, understood?"

" **Y** es."

" **A** nd- fucking hell, I'll get you a room ready in the workers quarters... You sure you-"

" **Y** es, Negan, I'm sure."

" **O** kay... Okay. What kind of work d'you want, baby doll? Since you wanna work for points and earn your shit like a big girl."

" **C** -can I- Scavenging, I want to go out on supply runs, I'm really good at it, I swear I-"

" **S** upply runs it is then, little one."

" **R** -really? That easily?" you quint your eyes at him, unsure of what to think how of how easily you're getting your way. You may not know the man all that much but he made it pretty fucking clear that he was hard-headed as all hell.

" **D** oll, I've seen you escape a fucking overran crappy Dinner all by yourself. You're one hell of a shot with that bow o'yours and, goddamn, the way you handle knifes is ridiculously hot and seriously badass, kinda scared to piss you off when there's blades laying around to be honest."

You feel anxiety rolling through you as you realize that, tomorrow, you're gonna have to live with other people and interact with them and that you'll have a roof above your head every single night and that you're gonna have to take showers in a collective bathroom and- God, you're freaking out.

_hey, calm the fuck down, okay? you'll be able to get out whenever, if it gets too hard you'll be able to just run the fuck away plus who said you'll have to interact with anyone? just do you, don't be rude to people but you don't have to read them a fucking story either, y'know? it'll be okay... plus, you're actually gonna have the opportunity to sneak out to go visit jesus, pretty cool if you ask me._

" **H** ey, you still with me, baby doll?" Negan's voice snaps you out of your inner monologue and you can feel your anxiety slowly die down.

" **Y** -yeah. So... Promise?"

" **P** romise, princess."

You wiggle your pinkie finger for him to reach for it and wrap his own around it which he actually does to your surprise and delight.

_the real question is; is he ever going to let go of my hands or is he just waiting for blood to stop running through them???_

Once again, he surprises you with his mind reading skills as he carefully lets go of your hands, a huge red mark around both your wrists. You slowly rub up them and look back at Negan, doing something that surprises the both of you when you carefully snake one of your hands around his neck and gently grab his dark hair as your left hand takes a hold of his strong, right, arm.

He carefully leans towards you, pushing his nose against yours, looking at you to make sure that he's not misreading anything here and you give him a small nod, giving him permission to capture your lips with his once again but this time you're way more open to him. You push him further down with the hand holding the back of his neck, pulling on his hair, making him groan into your mouth as his tongue forces itself into the kiss again, your tongue immediately greeting it this time around.

There's nothing innocent about this kiss, it's **needy** , **eager** , **greedy** and **full of frustration**  and _unspoken words and promises_ from Negan.

Just like your relationship is about to become and actually already is if you think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, HI LIL CUPCAKES!  
> I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED BUT ANXIETY GOT THE BEST OF ME YET AGAIN.
> 
> I guess writing something and publishing it isn't such a great idea when depression is taking so much room in my life and takes quite a lot of energy out of me but, hey, I don't really regret it, I just don't want to let you guys down. So, yeah, I hope you guys liked this new chapter, as always, I did spellcheck but there might still be some mistakes here and there, mostly due to my lack of concentration sometimes, so, yup, I'm sorry darlings.
> 
> I LOVE YOU, STAY SAFE.  
> ALSO, THAT REUNION IN THE LAST EPISODE? CAN I GET A FREAKING AMEN! OUR KIDS ARE BACK TOGETHER.
> 
> little update; rick grimes is still slowly killing me and I can't say that I mind, like, at all.


	6. New Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's shameless dry humping in there, yeah, it's happening. that's a thing. definitely a thingy.  
> also, there's a new Original Female Character and two Original Male Characters getting introduced to the story.

Are you seriously doing this? Is this really happening? You feel your fingers shaking as you walk as fast as possible, trying to keep up with Negan's pace, you look around, people are kneeling as soon as Negan gets close to them.

_what on earth did you get yourself into?_

Right on your heels are Dwight and Simon as Negan guides you to your room, your backpack is on your shoulders, your right hand tightly wrapped around your bow, your knuckles white and your heart is beating so fast, it feels like you're about to explode.

You finally get out of everyone's sight as you turn into a long corridor which leads to the bedrooms. Negan takes your free left hand and brings you close to him, opening the door of one of the rooms before carefully putting you in front of him for you to step into your new room.

You didn't take the time to take a peak into the rooms when you gave yourself the grand tour of the place two days ago so you take a moment to look around the room you're in and, to your surprise; it's actually quite big, the bed looks good enough to sleep on, there's a wooden chest with a padlock resting on top of it-

_at least you can keep your shit safe..._

There's also a dresser, a bunch of clothes neatly folded on the bed and two big windows with black curtains on them which darken the room a little but it's far from being something to complain about in your book.

_and he calls that "strict minimum"? this dude has no idea what kind of luxury this is... kinda pissed off now..._

" **L** ike I said, baby doll, nothing luxurious b-"

" **A** re you kidding? That's more than enough, Negan." 

He laughs and kisses your forehead before smiling down at you, " **M** y door's always open to you, princess. Just so you know."

_ugh, fuck off with that._

" **M** 'good." you look down at your hands and take a deep, shaky, breath.

" **A** lright, little one, I gotta go take a look around, see what these sorry fucks have been up to while I had my back turned. I'll see you real soon though."

He swiftly swings Lucille back up on his shoulder, walking out but stopping to whisper something to Simon and Dwight before vanishing down the corridor, whistling nonchalantly.

Simon takes a long look at you and smiles before getting close to you, " **H** ey, look, shit happens, yeah? I'm just gonna put what happened on the account of you before all nervous and shit. Just don't pull that crap again and we'll be all good, alright, darlin'?"

" **Y** ou want an apology?" you ask through gritted teeth, his nonchalant attitude pissing you off.

He laughs and leans towards you, " **N** ah, I don't ask for shit that are completely out of my reach, [y/n]."

" **G** ood, 'cause I don't write checks I can't cash, Simon."

" **D** -a-amn, girly! I knew I liked you for a reason." he takes another look at you as you look straight into his eyes, silently telling him that you're not about to break and put your head down for him which makes him smile, " **A** lright, I got shit to do, Dwighty boy here is gonna help you get settle. Catch ya on the flip side, [y/n]."

He waves you goodbye and you mutter a "whatever" before dropping on the bed sitting in the middle of the room, you slowly look up at Dwight when you feel him staring at you. He's leaned against the wall in front of you, his arms crossed against his chest and a slightly awkward silence takes over the two of you as you kick your feet around in pure anxiety and let out a deep sigh.

" **I** think your scar looks badass... I kinda like it." you shyly whisper, trying to break the silence in the room, referring to the burn he's sporting on his face.

He lets out a small laugh and pushes himself off the wall, " **N** egan told us that you gave yourself a tour of the place already... How the fuck did you manage do get past the wall? Past the walkers? Past the fucking guards?"

" **I** 'm just sneaky like that, y'know." you give him a small smile and he gives you one back.

" **Y** 'know, Simon told everyone about how you almost broke his jaw and to be honest... You sound like a real lil' badass, [y/n]."

" **I** \- I don't wanna be here Dwight..."

" **Y** eah, I see that, you're all tense and shit. But- If it can make you feel any better, Negan brought us all up to speed, he told us all about your lil' deal and he's a man of his words, so are we. You get to go out right now if you want, if that's what you need, you just have to tell me how long you'll be gone for and I'll open the gate for you, promise."

" **T** hank you but- I think I'm gonna stick around for today." 

_he might actually be cool to hang out with..._

" **A** lright then, you see that little radio on your nightstand?" he asks, pointing at the talkie-walkie on the top of the nightstand beside your new bed, "You can use it whenever. If you need anything, beep me." he slowly walks towards the door of your new bedroom before stopping his steps, " **Y** ou're going on your first supply run tomorrow and also, if you're interested, there's a little party going on tonight in the common break room, y'see which one it is?"

" **T** -the one with the pool table and the small tv?"

" **Y** up, that's the one." he says with a smile, amused at the fact that you've already given yourself a tour of the place before you even got here, "Alright, I'll see you later, [y/n]. Feel free to go have a look around."

" **O** kay... Thank you."

He nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind him and lets the weight of your decision come crushing down on you the second the door clicks shut.

_now what?_

You look around the room and sigh deeply; you feel lost and you hate it. You hate feeling vulnerable, no matter how human it is to do so, it's always the one thing people are looking for and if they find it, they take advantage of you because of it.

_people are the worst... you should become a pigeon or some crap._

In pure frustration you throw the pillow sitting on the bed against the wall in front of you, tears blurring your vision. A knock on your door makes you jump off the bed and you quickly put the pillow back in its place before carefully opening the door. 

" **H** ey there pretty thing, I'm Connor."

A tall, dark haired, green eyed man stands in front of you, a smile on his face and his hand out for you to shake and, even though you feel kind of crept out, you reach out to carefully wrap your hand around his much bigger one and shyly shake it.

"[ **Y** /n]."

" **O** h I know who you are- Hell, everyone does. The guys who found you kept talking about how they've found the prettiest girl in the fucking world- their words- and now I can honestly say; goddamn."

_okay, he's fucking creepy, this is creepy and awkward, get away, yuk, no._

" **C** onnor, man, shut the fuck up should ya? You scaring the shit outta her." a blonde haired man interrupts and you actually feel thankful for a man opening his mouth for once.

You take a good look at him and, damn, he's handsome to say the least. He's tattooed pretty heavily, it's all black ink with just a smidge of color here and there. He has a snake tattooed around his neck, its head carefully drawn right below his jaw, his eyes are a deep ocean blue and his hair are resting on top of his head in a bun.

" **H** i, I'm Randall." he introduces himself with a friendly smile, "Sorry about... that." he says playfully pointing at his friend and you let out a small laugh.

" **F** uck you too." the dark haired man says to Randall with a smile on his face.

" **H** i, I-I'm [y/n]."

" **I** know, as Connor was explaining to you... In his own stupid way... We all heard about the beauty queen that punched the shit outta Simon and spat on Negan's face."

You feel your cheeks heating up.

_he told them? does it mean that he also told them that he punished you afterwards? ugh, bury me alive please._

" **H** e actually took it pretty well... Hell, you wouldn't be here if he hadn't." Connor explains in a really casual tone.

" **A** nyway! We didn't mean to bother you, [y/n], we just wanted to know if you were feeling up for lunch?"

" **O** -oh- uh- I uh... I'm not really hungry, but- thank you, that's really sweet."

" **A** lright then, don't hesitate. We'll be at the cafeteria if you change your mind, okay?"

" **O** -okay, thank you, R-Randall."

" **N** o problem, if you need anything, we're here... Even though I don't think Connor is the best person to go to in time of crisis..." he says playfully, wanting to get another laugh out of you and it actually works, you let out a small but genuine laugh and nod your head.

" **D** amn, man, you're making me look like an ass, not cool."

" **I** think you're making a good enough job of that on your own, mate."

They both let out a laugh and wave you goodbye but you feel a knot forming in the pit on your stomach as you're closing the door.

_i don't want to be alone... please, [y/n]._

" **G** uys, wait!"

They both turn around, Connor is smiling and Randall looks genuinely curious, " **W** hat is it, princess?" the blonde gently asks

" **C** -can I- can I come with you?"

" **H** ell yeah! All aboard the fucking friendship train and shit." Connor says really loudly and runs to get you, throwing you on his back before running back to Randall and you find yourself laughing like a kid on his back, your arms snaking around his neck to keep you steady, " **W** oo! Shoo shoo motherfuckers!"

He's literally yelling in the small corridor and you really hope that he's not gonna get in trouble for it but it doesn't seem to bother him all that much as he runs around the compound with you giggling on his back and Randall following the two of you, laughing and smiling all whilst shaking his head in mocked disapproval and shame.

Connor gets quieter as you get into the cafeteria but he doesn't put you down, he just wiggles around and gets in line to get food, people are looking at you and you hate the attention, you feel your cheeks burning and Randall seems to notice your discomfort.

" **C** onnor, mate, let her down."

And, surprisingly enough, he does. He carefully lets you get off his back and you have to take a small moment to steady yourself when your feet meet the ground again.

" **T** hat was fun, thanks Connor."

" **A** ny day, hell, last time I had the chance to do that was with my niece- damn... Feels like decades ago. Shit is crazy."

You look at Randall, not sure what to say and unsure if you actually hurt him or not but Randall gives a comforting smile telling you that it's okay.

_these guys are different from the ones who found us... they actually seem like.... decent human beings?_

 

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**1:00 PM;**

You get out of the cafeteria and head back to your room but a tight grip on your wrist stops you.

" **H** old on, [y/n]." you hear Randall's voice and you relax and turn around to face him, secretly thanking your lucky stars that it's not Negan behind you.

" **W** -what is it?"

" **Y** ou didn't eat anything, you sure you're okay? You're not hungry at all?" he actually seems genuinely worried about you and, somehow, it doesn't sit quite well with you.

_i'm fucking mental..._

" **N** -no, Randall. I-I'm really not, p-promise."

" **A** lright then." he slowly lets go of your hand, " **G** o get some rest then, I'll see you later?"

" **Y** es, of course."

You walk away and pull on your fingers until your reach your bedroom's door and hesitantly reach for the knob but you stop dead in your tracks and start to walk away from the wooden door.

_i ain't about to sit around all day and overthink, fuck that._

 

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**4:00 PM;**

A knock on Negan's office door snaps him out of his thoughts as he barks at whoever knocked to get in. 

" **A** m I interrupting something, boss?"

" **N** ah Simon, we got a problem?"

" **U** h, well, I'm not sure if it's a problem per say but- Well-"

" **F** ucking spill it Simon, for fuck's sake." Negan orders, his patience already wearing thin as he looks up for his big office chair.

" **W** ell, it seems like lil' [y/n] just got us a whole week ahead of our schedule..."

" **E** x-fucking-cuse the shit outta me, Simon?"

" **Y** ou know that shitty truck we've been trying to fix for a month now?" Negan squints his eyes, thinking before nodding, "She fixed it this afternoon. Cameron saw her getting out of the garage covered in grease, she left the keys on top of the truck and, when he tried to start it, it started right away."

Negan lets out a laugh and leans back in his chair, a huge smile on his smile, " **W** ell, I'll be fucking damned! Ain't she something."

" **Y** eah, but it ain't all of it. She cleaned and loaded up every single weapons in the armory and, when I checked, none of them were missing. She didn't steal anything and she wasn't supervised, no one knew about it 'til Faith saw her and came to me 'cause she thought she might have been stealing but, when I got there, she was gone and all the weapons were right where we left 'em. She cleaned the damn kitchen too, that room is so shiny it burns your eyes and she listed all the items in the storage rooms, every single one."

Negan's eyes are wide open and a grin slowly appears on his face, " **W** here is she now?"

" **L** ast time I caught sight of her, she was hanging out with the boys in the main yard."

Negan feels his jaw clenching violently as he swings Lucille on his shoulder and walks out of his office, completely ignoring Simon as he walks past him, and get out of his quarters to end up outside, his workers kneeling as he walks by but he doesn't pay any mind to them as he makes his way to the main yard.

He finally gets there and spots you, sitting on top of a picnic table, Connor, Randall and a few other men around you, making you laugh and smile. He doesn't like that, he doesn't like it one bit, it pisses him off actually.

" **O** kay, okay, but; get that, this fool right here shot himself in the fucking leg while taking the safety on his gun off. Like, who the f-"

Everyone gets silent and drop to their knees which makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion until you turn to look around and see Negan standing right behind you, Lucille on his shoulder and his signature cocky smirk crooking the corner of his mouth.

" **F** uck off you sorry fucks."

And they do, they all stand up and run off to whatever they have left to do. You cross your arms against your chest and look at Negan, hurt, " **T** hat was rude, calling them that. They work their butts off for you, why would you treat them that way?"

" **L** ook at you, dolly, you're all covered in sweat and grease, looking hot as ever. You've spend your day working your pretty ass off and you're telling me that _they're_ hard working guys? Nah, don't think so. _You're_ an hard worker and I'm seriously impressed which doesn't happen all that much if ever, baby girl."

_this man really doesn't know how to give out compliments..._

" **T** -thanks but that's n-nothing spectacular, I'm j-just trying to help out."

" **A** nd I really fucking appreciate it, princess. Now, c'mon," he says as he gives his hand out to you, "let's go have a nice little chat in your room, baby doll."

You take his hand, not wanting to make a scene in front of his workers, and follow him as he casually walks past everyone, clearly not disturbed by the fact that everyone is kneeling in front of him as he walks the two of you to your room.

Once you get there, he lets you open the door and you both step inside the bedroom, Negan closing the door behind him and you silently stand in the middle of the room, shifting from one leg to the other, nervously pulling on your fingers and biting down on your lip.

_you're so casual when you're nervous. i seriously wonder how people are ever able to tell you're feeling anxious... i'm so sarcastic, i'm hurting my own feelings._

Negan goes to sit on your bed, making himself comfortable, and pets the spot next to him, inviting you to sit beside him and you do.

" **D** wight fucked himself over, darlin'." he starts, making you look up at with furrowed eyebrows, confusion written all over your face, " **I** see the way you look at his burned face, like it's the most cruel shit to ever happen to someone. He and his- I mean **my**  wife fucked up and ran away with my shit in their bags, so, when we brought them back - 'cause we always drag them back - I gave them a choice. Since Sherry's sister, one of my wives, died out there during their little escape I told them that; either Sherry could become mine and Dwight'll get the iron but he'll still get to live here afterwards or they could both get kicked the fuck out... And guess what? She didn't even think twice about it. Nah, she played hard to get, telling me that she wasn't sure but a week later? She came knocking on my door and now she's one of mine and Dwight is missing half of his fucking face, that's just what happens, dolly."

" **W** -why are you telling me this?"

_i'm gonna be fucking sick. bitch, what the fuck is wrong with him? poor dwight, that's so fucked up... what's wrong with this bitch?_

" **I** don't like sharing what's mine."

" **O** kay...?"

He sighs in frustration, seeing that you're deliberately missing the point, " **D** on't let me catch you with one of these fuckers, [y/n]. Unless you're okay with being to blame for one of them getting his fucking face burned."

His words push you over the edge and you get off the bed to stand in front of him, feeling like slapping his face off but controlling yourself somehow, " **B** ullshit! I'm not yours, Negan! I can do whatever I want with whoever I fucking please! If any of your man gets an iron to the face it'll be your fault, not mine! You'll be the one to blame, what the fuck is wrong with you? Get out!" you yell, pointing at the door.

In a matter of a second, you're pinned against a wall, Negan's nose bumping into yours and, one of his hands grabbing yours to pull them above your head as his free hand gets a slight grip around your throat, " **G** oddamn, baby doll, I fucking love how easily I can make you snap. You're fucking adorable when you get all mad."

" **L** et g-go of me Negan, get out of m-my room!" you wiggle around, trying to get out of his grip but he's way bigger and way stronger than you are.

" **Y** ou're fucking mine." he says through gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

" **S** crew you! Screw you, screw you, I hate you, Negan!"

He lets out a rather dark, low, laugh and presses his forehead against yours, " **Y** ou hate me, uh?"

" **I** fucking hate you, you're the worst kind of man there is, you're gross! I hate you! Leave me alone and just go back to your whores!"

" **S** ay that shit again, princess." the thumb of his left hand, the one wrapped around your throat, gently moves around to caress your soft skin, rubbing small circles to try and soothe you.

" **Y** ou're gross andI hate you." you quietly whisper, feeling completely exhausted, tears are rolling down your face like water out of a broken sink.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to make him go away, trying to forget that he's right in front of you but his hands are touching you, he's all over the place and you hate how comforting it is to you when his presence should make you sick... It just doesn't.

" **L** ook at me princess." you shake your head no, tears still dripping down your face, going through your closed lids and you open them when you feel his mouth slightly touching yours, " **C** 'mon, doll, stop crying. You're okay, I got you."

_no you're not okay, this is not okay, what the hell is he doing to you?_

You let out a loud sob; you're scared of the way he makes you feel, you don't like it. It feels so wrong but it doesn't, you're lost and it feels like you're running in circles ever since he came into your life and that was only three days ago. 

He hushes you and carefully lets go of your hands so that his right hand can now make contact with your left cheek. He gently wipes away a few tears as your small, shaking hands take refuge on each side of his neck and you two stay like that for a few minutes, completely silent, just looking at each other, Negan's thumb still rubbing your cheek absently as you're trying to calm yourself down a little bit.

_ugh, just kiss me already for the love of god..._

You slightly wiggle around in his arms, trying to get his attention, and he looks at you with a small smirk on his lips like he already knows what you crave. Maybe he doesn't know, maybe he just really craves you and, since his ego is too big to fit in one room, he feels like you crave the exact same thing as he does and he's a hundred percent right even though you'll never admit it to him.

With one swift movement, his lips crash against yours and there's nothing chaste about this kiss. It's pure anger and frustration, it's you trying to take your anger out on him, it's him trying to get his frustration out on you, there's so much frustration in this kiss it's almost unhealthy but none of you care, you can't bring yourselves to give a damn, not now.

" **F** ucking shit, baby doll." he panted against your parted lip, "I swear to fucking God, you're starting to give me some serious blue balls. Ain't shit I want more than you."

" **W** hy don't you ask one of your many wives for help." you snap back, completely out of breath and patience.

" **Y** ou think I didn't try? I needed to get off so fucking badly because of you. Damn, she couldn't get me off 'cause all I could think about was that she wasn't you, none of them are. Fucking shit, darlin'." he lets out an heavy sigh, "What the hell are you doing to me? I left her fucking room with a rock hard dick and I had to fucking get myself off in the fucking shower. Not cool, baby girl, not fuckin' cool at all."

He doesn't let you answer, knowing you probably have no clue what any of what he just said means - and he's right - and lets his lips attack yours again, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, groaning as he gets to taste you and you squeal into his mouth when you feel him grinding against you roughly. Your hips are involuntary bucking against him, trying to create the smallest bit of friction through your clothes.

Negan slowly pulls always from your lips and his mouth directly goes down to that special spot underneath the right side of your jaw, sucking and biting on the flesh, making you cry out in both discomfort and pleasure.

" **C** 'mere, baby doll." he mumbles against your skin as he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up against his body.

Your legs instinctively wrap themselves against his waist as he kisses every inch of skin that's exposed him and you don't even realize that he's been bringing you towards your bed until you fall on the mattress, Negan on top of you, his body trapping you, his lips hungrily getting back on yours. His right hand wraps itself around your throat again and, this time, he applies pressure on it; not enough to cut off your airway but enough for you to have a hard time breathing normally.

" **Y** ou're so fuckin' pretty, kitten."

You let out a loud gasp when his hips start to roll into yours, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes staring straight into yours and you swear you see them getting a shade darker when a literal mewl comes out of your mouth. That cocky smirk of his comes back on his lips and he lets out a dry chuckle against your lips.

" **D** amn, baby doll. You're mewling like a fucking cat for daddy. You like that?" you quickly nod your head, your cheeks red from embarrassment and from the friction he's giving you, " **U** se your big girl's words, baby."

You can't. You feel so embarrassed; are you even supposed to like what he's doing to you? Is it normal for you to? You have no clue because you simply don't know the last thing about sex but he doesn't seem satisfied by your silence so he presses his hips harder against yours, forcing an answer out of you.

" **Y** -yes! Yes Negan, I like it- More, please!"

" **M** y lil kitten's so needy. S'okay, daddy ain't going nowhere."

If there was a fire near you you sure as shit would jump into it, that's just how embarrassed you are right now.

_stop questioning it and just go with it, as long as he doesn't do anything you don't want him to do, it's all good._

You swear you can feel something hard poking you as Negan lets out a loud groan and presses harder against you, making you move around below him. His grip gets tighter around your throat and his lips are sucking right below your left ear.

You don't know what to focus on anymore; there's so much going on. It feels like he's everywhere at the same time and it's becoming too much for you to take. You feel your stomach tightening and you start to panic, thinking that you're about to have one of your panic attacks and Negan seems to feel you tense below him as he lets out a small laugh mixed with a grunt.

" **S** 'okay, baby, just let it happen." he whispers lowly against you, his rough voice making his words sound like an order, " **I** got you, you're safe, I promise."

" **N** -negan wh-"

Before you can ask him what the hell is happening to you, your legs start to shake, your breathing becomes frantic as his thrusts are getting faster and messier, he's all over the place too it seems. And, just like that, you let out a bunch of curse words you didn't even know were part of your vocabulary and your eyes close, your stomach feels odd as a flash of pure pleasure rips through your body and, for a moment, everything goes white and you're brought back down by Negan's groans.

" **F** ucking shit- Fuck!" his breathing is heavy and fast, his hand slowly lets go of your throat and his head drops in the crook of your neck. You're both breathless and you both feel way better now, like a huge weight as been lift off your shoulders.

" **W** -what- Negan- What just happened?" you ask completely out of breath, your eyes closed.

" **Y** ou just made me cum in my fuckin' pants, that's what just fucking happened, baby doll." he pauses and brings his head up to look at you, "And, goddamn, I just gave you your first orgasm." he flashes that cocky smirk of his, making you blush, "Kinda pissed that I had to dry hump that shit outta you but, hey, it sure as shit is a beginning, ain't that right, princess?"

He lets out a small laugh as he watches realization wash over you and you let out a small gasp as your cheeks start heating up again. You don't know what to say to him. You're no expert but you're pretty sure you're not supposed to say thank you afterwards... Or maybe you are.

" **T** -thank you?"

" **T** hank me? Don't be ridiculous, thank **you** _,_ darlin'. I really needed that shit. Fucking hell, I need way fuckin' more but I won't push you into anything, okay? Just remember that;" he pushes himself to the side to look directly into your eyes, "you're mine, all fucking mine, and so is that lil pussy o'yours." he growls and you feel like the heat in your cheeks is about to melt your face off, " **A** ll mine."

His filthy mouth makes you blush once again and you just nod and greedily shuffle on the mattress to nuzzle into him before craning your neck up to silently ask for a kiss which he indulges in with a wicked grin.

_well, shit._

 

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**6:00 PM:**

You just got out of your shower and you're walking back to your room as fast as possible since the only thing covering your nude body is the black towel wrapped around it and you're not really comfortable with that - at all.

" **H** ey, [y/n]"

_who the fuck talks to someone only covered by a fucking towel? are you fucking kidding me? who wants that kind of conversation?! hey gerald, i'm naked under there, what's up?_

You slowly turn your head to see Dwight running up to you and feel your cheeks catch fire as realization hits him and he looks as flustered as you are, if not more. He looks like he's about to explode.

" **O** h- shit- sorry, I didn't- Uh- I didn't see that you were only wearing... A towel, I'm sorry."

" **S** 'okay. So, w-what's up?"

" **J** ust, real quick, I wanted to remind you about tonight's party that's all." his eyes involuntarily drop to your bare legs which are shinning because you didn't dry well enough but he quickly gets a grip and clears his throat before looking away, " **O** kay, I'm gonna... go now- yeah- uh- see ya."

He awkwardly walks away and runs off to God knows where as you make a run for your room, locking the door behind you as you let out a sigh of relief, " **O** kay, I just- I just have to show up real quick at this stupid party and I'll be done with it, right? Just- Like, "hello, I'm a thing now" and leave, easy right?"

You let out a long, loud, frustrated sigh and go fetch some clothes when you spot a set of silk baby pink pajamas sitting on your bed as well as a pair of white fluffy slippers slightly hiding underneath your bed, you reach out to touch the clothes and they feel so soft and, well, silky in your hands that you quickly drop the towel at your feet and grab the silky baby pink shorts to put them on but you stop when you spot a lingerie set right below it.

_cheeky bastard..._

The set is white silk and lace, there's a bra and a pair of panties, more like a thong actually. You quickly put them on, as you start to get cold in your birthday suit, and you look at your reflection on the big mirror in your room.

_giiirl, look at you! it's kinda creepy that Negan's dressing you up but.... look at you!_

You smile at your reflection, an happy smile tugging at your lips, and run back to your bed to grab your pajamas. You swiftly pull the silky baby pink shorts on first then the soft camisole that came with them and you immediately swoon at how comfortable that set feels, it's been so long since you actually felt comfortable in clothes. In all honestly, this is all new to you because you've never worn either silk or sexy lacy underwear but it's a welcome change because, God, is it comfortable to wear.

_hey now! that's a lie, Jesus' clothes are super comfortable._

You look at the said clothes lying on the floor and quickly go pick them up before putting them in the safety of your wooden chest, locking it away along with your backpack, and all the supplies in it, as well as your bow. You close the chest and quickly put your old favorite pair of white knee-high socks on and slip in your new white fluffy slippers before running out of your room only to end up getting crushed against someone's chest.

" **S** hoot! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking wh-"

" **H** ey, [y/n], it's okay angel." you hear Randall's voice snapping you out of your messy apology, " **W** ow- you- you look amazing." he says as you step away from his chest, allowing him to take a good look at you.

" **T** -thank you, Randall, you- you look good too." you say sincerely with a genuine smile.

" **W** hy, thank you, my dear. I, indeed, do look pretty fucking good tonight. Yes, indeed." he says with a fake and seriously offensive British accent, making you laugh and you swear you almost forgot how that felt like.

" **M** y ribs hurt, it's awful."

He lets out a small laugh and swings his hand over your shoulders, literally dragging you along with him through the corridors.

" **S** ince work ends at five, the guys and I usually get together to have a chat and some beers, wanna join? Oh, wait, sorry." he clears his throat, "Would you care to join us for a tea party, m'dear? Also, ain't no tea to this party, darling, only beers and a bunch of hillbillies." he finishes with his British accent making choke on your own spit.

" **W** hy, yes, it will be my pleasure, dear sir."

" **H** m, yes, very well."

You both look at each other and end up losing it, your laughs can probably be heard from the other side of the compound but you don't care at the moment.

_okay, definitely got a soft spot for him. i mean, c'mon! he's like a ridiculously good looking teddy bear, we need that in our life [y/n]. we're keeping him._

You smile and let your head fall against his side as he keeps his hand wrapped around your shoulders. He smiles when he feels your head against him, happy to see that you're starting to slowly get comfortable around him. You both end up outside in the main yard where you all were later on today before Negan came to collect you and you blush at the memory of what happened in your room afterwards.

_yeah, that's a thing now... what the hell is going on with you? i mean, your life's always been messy as shit but damn! that's not messy, that's fucked up._

" **I** f Negan catches you touching his girl like that, you do realize he's gonna chop your dick off?" a female voice snaps out of your thoughts.

" **S** he ain't his, she's a worker here." Randall answers back with a protective tone.

" **N** o fucking way, seriously?" the woman asks, looking at you.

You slowly nod your head and carefully look at the woman sitting at the table with the other men; she has dark hair which she's wearing in two distinct braids, clear brown eyes, a really pretty dark skin and she's wearing ripped denim blue jeans with a simple white shirt which has a few marks of old dry blood here and there. She's intimidatingly beautiful.

" **Y** -yeah, I uh- I just work for him, nothing else. No o-offense but I really don't want anything to do with his harem bullshit. Sorry, shouldn't have cursed."

She lets out a small laugh and gets up from her sit at the table to come greet you, her hand waiting for yours and you immediately grab it to shake it as she gives you a smile, " **I** t's really cool to meet you, I'm Faith."

" **N** ice to meet you Faith, I'm [y/n]."

" **I** don't mean to rude, at all, but, like, how are you not one of Negan's bitches? Sorry about the language but I don't really have any other words to describe those parasites."

" **H** -he asked me but- I declined, I- That's not what I do, I want to earn my keep. I can't just sit around all day and wait for things to happen."

" **I**  love you already, kiddo." she turns around and look at the men sitting at the table, " **H** ey, scoot over you pricks, let the girl have a sit."

And they actually do, they make room for you and you can already tell Faith and you are gonna get along just fine. You take a sit next to her, in front of Connor and Randall completes the table as he comes sit next to you, a smile on his face.

_ugh, sitting on a wooden bench with bare thighs isn't the brightest idea [y/n], you're gonna get splinters in your ass._

" **Y** ou're so pretty, it's insane. Look at that face, good Lord, girl. You're seriously making me sloppy." she says with a small laugh as she hands you a beer that you politely decline it, the smell of it alone making you sick.

_thanks mom..._

" **H** ey, you're alright?" Faith asks, spotting discomfort on your face and slight sadness as memories of your abusive mother come running back to you.

" **Y** -yeah, I'm okay, really. Thanks for the concern though, that's really sweet."

" **O** f course, honey, we have to be here for each other. It's important, especially in those times."

" **Y** ou're preaching, Faith." an amused feminine voice points out with a laugh.

" **F** uck off, Arat. [Y/n], this bitch over there is Arat, she's awful." Faith introduce the other woman with a laugh, clearly joking.

" **Y** eah, I'm a real bitch." she laughs and comes to greet you, slightly pushing Connor on the side for her hand to reach yours, " **N** ice to meet you."

" **N** ice to meet you, Arat. I seriously thought all the women here were- well- y'know."

" **H** ell no, there's more of us, fighting and being our awesome selves." Arat says, smiling proudly.

" **D** amn, Arat, your ass is literally in my fucking face right now. I mean, shit, if you want me just say so, don't put your ass on my fucking face, it's fucking rude."

" **C** onnor, you fuck, I swear to God." she tries to sound serious for a minute but ends up cracking up as well as Connor.

" **S** o, honey, you actually cleaned the whole damn armory, uh? I'm sorry I told Simon about you being in there, I didn't know you were one of us workers, I'm sorry."

" **D** on't apologize, I didn't even know you told Simon you saw me, heck, I didn't even saw you to be honest."

You start to make chit-chat with everyone and being with people is actually not half as bad as you were afraid it'll be, it actually feels good to laugh and talk to regular people. You feel kinda good. Things are going pretty well, at least for now - you've learn not to get your hopes up by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's chapter six loves! I hope you liked it, I really enjoyed writing it, I like all the interactions the OFC gets in this one. As always, I've proofread my work but there might be some mistakes in there still and a lot of them are here because of my inability to concentrate or because I stress way too much about not making any mistakes and end up writing like a two years old. But anyways, thank you guys so much for all your kind messages, you really make my days and nights, you're adorable and too pure for this world (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> A/N²: I DID NOT POST THIS STORY ANYWHERE ELSE BUT HERE SO IF YOU SEE IT ON TUMBLR AND SUCH PLEASE LET ME KNOW, PRETTY PLEASE, OKAY LOVE YOU.
> 
> AS ALWAYS, I LOVE YOU, STAY SAFE LIL CUPCAKES ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


	7. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey babies! I hope you're all having amazing Holidays, I hope you're safe and that you're somewhere where you feel at home and safe because you truly deserve it.  
> Please, stay safe, you are loved.
> 
> PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE'S RATHER HEAVY MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM IN THIS CHAPTER, READ WITH CAUTION AND STAY SAFE, ANGELS. YOU'RE IMPORTANT AND LOVED.

**8:00 PM:**

You've skipped yet another meal tonight and you know just how unhealthy it is but you just can't put anything in your stomach, it feels like your body is gonna reject everything you'll give to it anyway so, what's the point?

_the point is you didn't eat anything today nor yesterday and your body is trying to recover from all the shit you've put it through and it can't fucking do that if you don't fucking feed it properly... any questions?_

You let out a deep sigh and quickly put an awfully fake smile on your face when you hear Connor calling after you.

He reaches you, completely out of breath from running after you but with a genuine smile on his face, "[ **Y** /n]! Shit, hold up-" he bends forwards a small bit, catching his breath, "Jesus! I think I'm dying, boo."

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him, " **Y** ou're such a drama queen, y'know that?"

" **W** haaat? How dare you! I'm so shocked right now, like, bish, do you even realize that I could have, like, broke my ankle or some shit running like that, oh my goooosh, you're, like, the worst." he says with an awful teenage girl voice, making you cringe and laugh at the same time.

" **B** eing around you is so freaking embarrassing, Connor."

" **Y** ou love me." he says with a big smile, teasing you, "Anyways! You wanna go to the break room? I mean, like, at the party? It's shitty and it's seriously just people getting wasted and talking shit, but, it's some kind of distraction for us... I guess."

" **I** dunno Connor... I-I'm not much for- Well- Y'know, just, being stuck in a room with a bunch of drunk people doesn't really appeal to me."

" **O** kay, how 'bout this; you come with me, just to see, yeah? And you can run the fuck away the second you feel like it's too much, I promise, no questions asked, no arguing, you'll be able to leave whenever you want. Deal?"

You look at him for a quick second and slowly nod your head yes, you trust him for some reason, he's been really nice to you so far. He smiles at that and carefully grabs your hand, leading you around the compound and you end up going up a bunch of stairs which lead to the break room the party is taking place in but there's also the infirmary on this floor.

Connor leads you into the room full of people already and gives you a reassuring look before leaning down a bit to face you, " **O** kay, the music is shit, the alcohol tastes like piss - but it does the job so no one complains - and there's a lot of hillbillies in this room which is, I'll admit it, real fucking scary... So, yeah... Friday nights are fucking awful, darling."

You let out a small laugh and look around you when you spot a big window in the room and walk quickly towards it, curious to see what you'll be able to see from here, a tiny smile appearring on your face when you see Dwight outside.

_he's on watch tonight... it's freezing out there._

" **D** amn, don't you look mighty fine, princess."

You jump in surprise when you hear Negan's voice behind you, scaring the crap out of you. You slowly turn around to face him but directly look down at the floor, not wanting him to see just how red your cheeks are but, as always, he doesn't seem pleased with your demeanor. 

" **Y** eah, you look fuckin' adorable, baby doll." he pauses and gets closer to you, way too close for comfort, before whispering in your ear, " **T** hing is, only I am supposed to be able to see you when you look like that, baby. I can't have those horny fucks seeing your pretty lil' body like this, fuck that. Fuckin' shit, you already look hot with disgusting clothes on, covered in blood and guts, and it pisses me the fuck off to know that there isn't a damn fuckin' thing I can do to fuckin' keep people from looking at you, I mean, shit, doll, you're so fucking beautiful... The point is; I can't have you walking around in shit that only I am supposed to see you in, we clear?"

" **B** -but... these are pajamas Negan... I-I mean- I don't-" you let a frustrated sigh, frustrated at the fact that you just can't complete a proper sentence whenever you speak to him.

" **Y** eah, and just like I fuckin' said, you look fuckin' hot as hell in torn and fuckin' gross clothes so just imagine what you're achieving when you're wearing pretty, clean, lil' clothes, darling... Let's just say that you're fuckin' lucky that I somehow manage to keep myself under control 'cause otherwise I'll already be fuckin' you raw on that damn pool table."

You feel your stomach tightening at his filthy words, your cheeks burning and you loudly swallow the spit stuck in your throat. You hear him laugh lowly and he slowly walks away to go towards the infamous pool table he just mentioned, inviting people in the room to play with him and some come running to him, you don't know if it's because they're scared of what he might do if he's left hanging or if they're just trying to get on his good side.

_either way, it's pathetic..._

You hear really girly and quite frankly really exaggerated giggles in the room and slightly turn your head just to spot a couch filled with a bunch of fully grown women, giggling like preteen girls.

_jesus fucking christ, the cringe is real tonight..._

You quickly understand who- or what- they are and you feel sick just hearing their annoying laughs and voices. It seems like they all have loud, obnoxious, high-pitched voices and you feel like punching them in the face... with a chair... and set them on fire... and throw them in a pit... yeah.

" **L** adies, no disrespect or anythin' but, would ya pipe the fuck down for me, please?" Negan asks them -somewhat- politely with a cocky smile on his lips.

And, surely enough, they all giggle and apologize to Negan and he gives them a quick wink before resuming his game. After this you feel like you're about to throw up and you actually have to put your hand on your mouth to keep yourself from doing so.

You go to the pool table where Connor is playing with Negan and some other men, avoiding Negan and walking as far away from him as possible, feeling like you're gonna throw up or worst, punch him, if he talks or touches you, and you quickly make your way to Connor and get on your tiptoes to reach his ear, your hands resting on his shoulder for balance.

" **I** 'm going, thanks for trying though, that was very sweet of you and I truly appreciate it, Connor."

You really want to give him a kiss on the cheek but you don't risk it, afraid to create unneeded drama, as you already feel Negan's eyes shooting you down from the other side of the pool table. 

You quickly get out of the room and literally run down the stairs, running as fast possible outside, to the main yard, feeling like you're completely unable to breathe.

You're out of breath when you finally get outside and your body lunches forwards, folding in two, your hands on your knees and, finally, you feel it. You throw up on the ground, missing your white slippers from only a few centimeters before breaking down in tears. You're tired, you feel vulnerable and the urge to hurt yourself is just unbearable by now. 

" **S** hit, [y/n]. Hey, what's wrong?"

_well shit! that's just great, yeah, why the fuck not! come on over and look at how much of a fucking mess I am, great fucking time for all the family._

You let out a loud sob and your body starts to shake violently. You're too tired, everything hurts so bad for you right now and it's perfectly understandable when you've been though all the terrible things that you've been though but you don't seem to be able to acknowledge that fact, you would with someone else but, with you? You can't. At least not for now.

" **D** -Dwight- I- My t-tummy hurts."

Your stomach is seriously burning you because of the acid that just came through and out of it when you threw up, you didn't eat anything in two days so all you threw up was bile mixed with small residues of food you've had four days ago. You can taste blood in your mouth and you feel like screaming in frustration.

" **C** ome with me [y/n], I'll take you to the infirmary, yeah?"

" **N** o!" you quickly stop him, "P-please... C-can I just s-stay with you, p-please?"

" **Y** ou're gonna fucking freeze out here [y/n] and you- you just fucking threw up, something's going on with you and-"

" **P** lease, Dwight." your voice is so low, he almost doesn't catch that, but when he does, he can tell that something's wrong and that it doesn't have everything to do with the state that your body's in. It's definitely a factor, he knows that, but there's more to it.

" **O** kay. You can stay with me if you want to."

You don't really think about it and hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest, mumbling a " **t** hank you" into it. He's taken aback by your display of affection but he quickly shakes it off and carefully wrap his arms around your smaller, shaking body, " **N** o problem, kiddo."

A few minutes later you're sitting on the hood of a big truck parked near the fence, Dwight leaning against it as he keeps an attentive eye out for any movements outside but you can tell that his mind is somewhere else and you're pretty damn sure you know where -or on who- it is and it seriously pisses you off.

" **S** he doesn't deserve you to miss or dwell on her, Dwight."

" **E** xcuse me?" he asks, looking up at you, clearly confused at your student outburst.

" **S** herry, your ex wife? I really don't want to hurt you, Dwight, I truly don't, but you deserve better. She fucked you over, she's a fucking coward, she hid from her responsibilities and ran to Negan's sides when you needed her the most, who does that? Not someone who truly loves and cares for you, Dwight."

" **I** -it's not like that [y/n], it's complicated-"

" **L** ike hell it is!" you jump off the truck and go to stand in front of him, your body still shaking, " **Y** ou did what was best for both of you... I mean, the three of you, her sister was with you too, right?" he slowly nod his head yes, " **Y** ou did what you did because you loved her and she threw you into the fucking pit when it back fired. That's not how this shit works, okay? I know what I'm talking about, I grew up with people like her and you know what I call that kind of person? Fucking parasites! They just take and take but they'll never give you shit, not even a small thank you 'cause they don't give a shit, Dwight! They just don't. I saw her at the party, she was wearing an ugly ass green dress, painting her freaking nails with her friends, giggling like a moron at absolutely nothing while you're out there, working in the cold, paying _her_ fucking debt! How is that fair? How's that love Dwight?" there's tears in your eyes, your vision is blurry and you can barely seem him, you're truly upset about what happened to him, it's unfair and he seems like a decent guy to you.

He lets out a nervous laugh and scratches the back of his neck nervously before looking at you, he doesn't seem angry at all and you're glad that he isn't 'cause he could've get pissed when you threw that harsh reality in his face, " **W** hy- why do you care, [y/n]?" he asks, genuinely curious, not at all sarcastic or trying to be rude.

" **B** ecause you're hurting and it's unfair. You're not a bad person, Dwight. She got you disfigured and ran into another man's arms, the same man that burned half of your face. It's just- There's so many bad things happening, you know? Why shouldn't you be able to enjoy the good ones because you're too busy thinking and missing a person that's far from deserving to be missed, let alone loved."

" **I** 'm not a bad person? Are you kidding me? I'm the reason why Negan is in your life right now, I dragged you into this shit- I could've let you run away after you punched Simon but I got scared they might shoot you and- Fuck- I fucked it up anyway, y'know? You're still alive but- I mean... Look around us, what kind of life is that? I mean, I don't mean to sound ungrateful y'know 'cause we do have a roof above our heads and food in our stomachs but- At what cost, y'know? I'm not a good person, [y/n], I'm a killer, I'm fucked up too."

" **I** don't believe that there's such a thing as a bad person Dwight, just- Just good people who do bad things sometimes and- It doesn't have to define you, you shouldn't let it define you."

He's about talk when Randall's voice interrupts him, " **H** ey, [y/n]! There you are, shit, you scared the livin' hell outta me, princess!"

" **R** -Randall? What- What's going on?"

" **N** othing, nothing. Sorry if I'm interrupting something important, I just-"he looks between you and Dwight, stopping a few feet away from the two of you, "I've been look all over the place for you and- Shit, baby girl, you're shaking like a leaf in high wind."

He's right, you are shaking like crazy, your lips are turning purple-ish, your veins are slowly starting to show through your skin and you can't feel your body anymore, the cold numbed you completely.

" **R** andall, take her to her room, she needs to get some serious rest and warm."

" **Y** eah, f'course man, you need anything?"

" **N** ah, I'm good, thanks though."

" **N** o problem. C'mere, baby girl." Randall coos as he carefully walks to you and grabs your waist before lifting your shaking body up against his and you let him. You're cold and tired, your belly still hurts, tears are still threatening to escape your eyes and your head hurts like a bitch.

He wraps his arms around your small frame before walking back inside, stopping to look down at the spot you threw up on a few minutes ago, he softly kisses your temple and heads inside the compound, heading towards your bedroom to put you to bed.

Carefully, he opens your room's door, trying not to make too much noise for the people that are already asleep in the other rooms. He walks into the bedroom without a word and closes the door behind him before heading towards your bed. He gently sits you down on the mattress and slips your slippers off your feet, before lifting the warm blankets covering the mattress you're on.

" **A** lright, come here [y/n], you need to get warm." you listen to him and crawl under the thick blankets, letting your head rest on a soft pillow before looking up at him with wide eyes, " **B** etter?"

" **Y** -yes. Thank you, Randall."

" **H** ey, it's no problem at all, little one, really."

He gives you a warm smile before carefully leaning down to kiss your forehead, making you close your eyes.

" **S** leep tight, [y/n]. My room's right next to yours, don't hesitate to come knocking if you ne-"

" **S** tay." you blur out before your brain can catch up with your mouth, " **P** -Please?"

He looks at you with a mix of surprise and confusion in his eyes as yours start to fill up with tears once more, a single one rolling down your cheek before you can do anything to keep it from happening.

You don't want to be alone, you're scared, it's been so long since you've had to sleep in a room all by yourself. When you're out there, there's always the sound of the dead roaming around and you got so used to it that you're scared to sleep in complete silence now.

" **Y** ou-You're sure, [y/n]?"

" **P** lease, I-I can't- I don't- I'm scared... Randall, I'm scared." a choked up sob escapes you, making your chest hurt. Your body is shaking and your migraine is getting worse as sobs keep on ripping their way out of your mouth.

" **H** ey, shh, it's okay, [y/n], you're okay. Don't worry, if you're sure you don't mind my company, I'll stay with you, I promise."

" **P** lease."

He carefully kicks his sneakers off his feet before taking his shirt off, looking at you to make sure that you're okay with him being shirtless but he's not able to make eye contact with you since your head is buried in your pillow, violent sobs leaving your mouth, the pillow beneath your head muffling the sounds and absorbing your tears.

You look up when you hear him moving around and see him dragging a chair next to your bed and he's about to settle when you quickly grab his wrist, his head snapping your way, " **N** o, c-come in bed with me, please?"

" **I** \- I'm perfectly fine with that honey but I- I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

" **Y** ou won't - Please?"

He slowly gets away from the chair and carefully climbs into the bed next to you, moving slowly and carefully like he's trying to approach a scared animal. Everything seems to fall into place when he finally gets under the blanket, part of you feel part for having him sleep in his jeans but you also know that you wouldn't be able to handle him not wearing them while behind so close to you. 

On an impulse, you shimmy on the mattress to get closer to him and curl yourself up against his tattooed chest when he rolls on his right side to look at you. With a small smile, he welcomes your embrace and even brings you closer to him, his right arm draped over your hip and his left one resting beneath your body, circling it entirely, while he keeps his left hand planted in the middle of your back to keep you close. He gently presses a careful and soft kiss at the top of your head, his left hand running up and down your back to try to reassure and calm you down.

" **S** hh, it's okay, you're okay, [y/n]. You're safe, I promise." he gently whispers into your hair.

" **I** -I'm scared, Randall."

" **I** know princess, I know. And it's okay to be but, I promise you that, you're safe here, I swear."

You don't answer him, you just push yourself further into his chest, his left hand settling on the back of your head as he tries to get you to relax a bit, " **Y** ou need to sleep [y/n], okay? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise, but you need to rest."

You slowly nod your head, feeling your eyes get heavy with exhaustion and you can't fight off the urge to sleep anymore.

 

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**6:00 AM //**

Your eyes slowly open as you let out a small yaw and you feel Randall's chest vibrating against your head.

" **W** ell, that's the cutest noise I've ever heard."

" **M** orning to you too."

" **M** ornin', [y/n], slept well?"

" **Y** es," you slowly sit up on the mattress, stretching, "thanks to you."

" **A** ny time, [y/n]., I mean it. Hell, I can't recall the last time I've slept that well ever since everything went down."

" **S** ame here." you look at him and back down at your hands, " **I** -I'm sorry if you felt forced to-"

" **H** ey, I didn't feel forced to do shit, okay, [y/n]? I stayed 'cause I care about you and I wanted to, end of the story. It wasn't charity or pity."

" **W** -why are you here, Randall?"

" **I** just told you I-"

" **N** o, I mean- Why are you _here_?"

" **O** h..." he lets out a dry chuckle, a small frown forming on your forehead as he seems to think your question through, " **W** ell, didn't have much of a choice, it was either working for him here or dying so... Y'know?"

" **I** 'm sorry."

" **D** on't be." he lets out a small laugh, " **Y** ou need to stop apologizing for shit you're not to blame for, okay?"

" **S** orry- Shoot, sorry I- Oh c'mon!"

He laughs and gets out of the warm bed with a low grunt, " **H** oly balls, I regret my decision to leave this bed."

" **S** ucker." you whisper with a small smile.

He turns around to give you a mocked shocked expression when he catches your whisper, " **O** h, so that's how it's gonna be, uh?"

" **Y** eah, looks like it, I'm afraid."

" **A** lright, missy." you see his eyes glint with mischief as he walks back to your bed, making you squeal and you quickly disappear under the blankets, giggling like a child, " **O** h, no, I don't think so, lil' lady."

You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks and it only serves to send your nerve reeling. With a chuckle, he lifts the covers off of your body, exposing you to him, and you let out a small, high-pitched scream as he bends down to grab your waist, shoving you on his shoulder, " **W** ho's the sucker now, uh?"

" **Y** ou are! R-Randall- Put me down- N-now, Randall!"

" **A** pologize."

" **N** -never, you suck. And I don't negotiate with terrorists."

He laughs at your words before throwing you back on the bed, climbing on top of you before assaulting your body with tickles and you completely break below him, " **R** andall! D-don't- Please- S-stop- Randall, I-I-m gonna p-pee myself- Fuck, stop!"

" **A** pologize to me, [y/n]." he demands once again, trying to make his voice sound authoritative but it's hard to when he's grinning like an idiot at the sight of you giggling and squirming beneath him.

" **I** -I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay?"

He stops and smiles down at you, proud of himself, " **S** ee, easy."

You shove him off of you, walking towards the door of your room, looking back at him with mischief in your eyes, " **S** orry that you're such a prick."

You quickly open the door and run for the showers, knowing damn well that he won't follow you there, respecting your boundaries.

" **Y** eah, run you lil' shit." he calls out from behind you, standing at the doorway of your bedroom, "You'll have to come out of that shower at some point and you'll pay for that the second you do, princess." you don't have to look to know that he's smiling like an idiot and, when you do look back, you see him leaving your room whilst putting his t-shirt back on and he flashes you a wink when your eyes meet, chuckling when you pull your tongue, before walking to his own bedroom.

You let out a giggle as you walk in the showers and you steps towards one of the cabins to take your shower before Faith's voice interrupts you, " **H** ey there, sweetpea! How you doin'?"

" **H** i Faith, I'm good, how are you?"

" **S** lightly shit faced but, other than that? Pretty good."

You both laugh and enter your own cabin to take your shower.

A few minutes pass and, after a really interesting conversation with Faith through the showers' walls, you finally find the courage to turn the warm water deliciously hitting your body off. You sigh and reach for your pajamas, putting them back on before stepping out of the shower. After brushing your teeth, you give Faith a small smile and wave at her before heading back to your room to get changed.

Once you get there, you let out yet another deep sigh and open your locked wooden chest to get Jesus' clothes out of it, putting them on.

" **Y** eah, that's more like it." you say, smiling, happy to be back in Jesus' clothes.

You tug the black AC/DC shirt in your lose and torn denim jeans before rolling the pants' legs for them to reach your ankles and put your black combat boots on, a sigh of relief escaping your plump lips when you straighten back up.

Last night was the first night since the outbreak that you wore actual pajamas instead of sleeping in your clothes and you're not too comfortable with that yet, you're just so used to sleeping with your clothes on in case you need to move quick.

_one step at the time [y/n]... one step at the time._

You take a deep breath, take your backpack and your bow out of the wooden chest before shoving your pajamas in it and locking it again. You let out a deep sigh knowing that you're gonna have to go and have breakfast really soon, something you dread more than anyone ever should.

_you don't have to eat a whole meal, okay. it's okay, just take a small bite of something at least, you have to._

Just when you're about to walk out of your room, a knock on your door stops you from doing so, " **Y** es?"

The door opens and your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see Negan's head peaking inside the room.

" **M** orning, sweet thing." he greets you with that smirk of his, his eyes roaming over your body, making you squirm on your feet as you suddenly feel naked even through your layers of clothing.

" **M** -morning, Negan." you hate that your voice comes out as a timid whisper and the chuckle he lets out doesn't help much either.

He gets inside the room and closes the door behind him, taking a few steps forwards, Lucille resting on his shoulder. You take a look at him, he's dressed as usual; leather jacket even though it's warm outside, a clean white shirt, black jeans and combat boots, the only thing he's not wearing today is his red scarf.

" **H** ow d'you sleep?"

" **G** -good... Y-you?"

He looks at you for a solid minute before leaning against your door, you can't read his emotions and, you won't lie, it kind of scares you a small bit, " **A** m I gonna have to fuck you in front of the whole compound for you to understand that you don't get to go to any other men but me, princess?"

Your head drops down and your hands start to shake as you start to pull on your fingers. You're completely lost, " **I** -I don't- I-"

You hear him laugh and your cheeks are starting to burn again, " **L** isten doll, Randall's a good kid-" he pauses and comes close to you, practically crushing you against him as he sandwiched you between a nearby wall and his solid body, " **D** on't make me kill him, baby girl. He's actually pretty damn useful, I need him alive, am I fuckin' clear?"

_is he fucking serious?_

" **F** uck off." you groan out before you can stop it, consequences be damned.

" **E** x-fucking-cuse me?" he asks, his head tilted to the side, looking and sounding like you've just kick his dog.

" **Y** ou're full of crap, Negan. If something happens to Randall- If you kill him? It'll be all on you." you straighten up and push yourself away from the wall and closer to Negan's body, "I'm not yours, Negan, get the fuck over it already." you spit out with a snarl.

" **Y** ou were saying otherwise yesterday if I recall, princess." 

He's right, this asshole is actually right, and you fucking hate it, it pushes you over the edge and you can't stop the venom from flowing out of your mouth. " **L** ook, Negan, I mean no disrespect to your deceased wife but- goddammit! I'm not her, I'm not just gonna roll over and accept the fact that you literally want everything that moves and breathes!" you shove him away from you though he doesn't move all that much, you still manage to put a little bit of distance between the two of you, "Last time, you said that you didn't know why she pulled up with you even though you're unfaithful. Well, she fucking pulled up with your shit because she loved you, 'cause that's what love does to you, makes you completely blind and brain dead. You were loved Negan! Do you know how rare it is to be loved by someone? The only person that ever loved me died and left me all alone, I- I can't Negan- I can't play this game- I can't - I don't want to."

You expect him to have an outburst, to hit you, even bash your head in right there and then, but he doesn't say anything, he doesn't move, he just looks at you and you know that whatever's gonna happen now is gonna be much worse than him beating you to death.

" **W** hat? What did you expect, uh?" he snarls, once again closing the small distance you've manage to put between you and him, your body trapped between his and a damn wall once again, "You thought that I'll fuckin' change shit for you? Now that's fuckin' stupidity right there. It doesn't fuckin' work like that, doll, grow the fuck up. It ain't my fuckin' fault if you never had the balls to put an end to your mom's abusive shit and it sure as shit ain't my fuckin' problem to deal with the aftermath, _you're_ not my fucking problem. I'm not looking for a charity case to adopt right about fuckin' now so I suggest that you get over your little "abused orphan that no one fuckin' loves and gives a fuck about" syndrome 'cause I don't have time for this shit, no one fucking does." his words hit you so hard you can feel your chest tightening as you struggle to get air in your lungs, " **W** hat? You really think Randall gives two shits about you? Nah, the boy just wants to get in your pants, grow the fuck up, stop being so fucking naive. Hell, I bet you even though that I gave a damn about you at some point and that's why you're so fucking pissed, 'cause you know damn well that I fucking don't, all I want from you is sex, not conversations or fucking feelings."

And, just like that, he leaves your room, slamming the door behind him.

_"abused orphan that no one fucking loves and gives a fuck about"... "i'm not looking for a charity case to adopt"_

You can't breathe, your whole body is shaking and your vision is blurry with hot tears. You can't fight it anymore and let the sobs you've been holding in come out and they're so violent it hurt your throat and knocks the wind out of you. You've been hurt before but that's beyond hurting, you can't put words on the pain you're feeling.

You don't know what's real or not anymore, you start to seriously doubt Randall's attentions, you start to doubt your own emotions, you start to wonder if you're not actually overreacting when it comes to your past, if Negan isn't actually right and it hurts just to think about it that way. The only person who could fuck with your head, make you doubt and question everything you felt and thought was your mother.

Luckily, your old neighbor, which also happened to be your best friend, truly helped you to stop doubting perfectly valid things such as your emotions, she always told you that; " _ **n** o matter what anyone says, no one gets to tell you how you should feel or react to a certain thing. It's your emotions, they belong to you, they make you who you are so you should always embrace them and let them happen, let them be, they're here for a reason_." and it was so hard for you to accept that when you grew up with a mother who kept on telling you that whatever you felt wasn't valid nor justified but you slowly were getting there and, right now? It's feel like Negan just destroyed all of the really hard and tiring work you've been doing on yourself for years and it hurts.

It hurts that one single person is capable to crush you like that, it hurts that one single individual can make you feel like you're nothing, like what you've been put through was justified, it hurts that someone can just destroy someone else's fragile foundations with no remorse whatsoever, it just hurts.

_how are we supposed to heal if people keep poking at our wounds? this is so fucked up..._

Negan has no idea just how much his words are about to change you for the worst and neither do you.

You've come so far, you've tried so goddamn hard and he crushed all of it in one small second. He destroyed all of the efforts you've put towards an healthier future you, he's fucking destroyed the little self-esteem you've been able to build for yourself with broken pieces. 

You're not sure how you ended up here, in this situation, you're not sure what you expected from him either... All you know is that, you didn't expect him to spit on you like that after everything that happened between the two of you in such a short amount of time, damn, you gave him your first kiss, your first orgasm and you opened up to him when you felt the most vulnerable.

You let out a nervous laugh through your tears, trying to snap out of the state that you're in but you can't, you can't bring yourself back down to the present, you feel numb and everything just happens so fast. You come back to your senses as a sharp pain shoots through your body and you look down, knowing exactly what you're about to see but you just have to see it and, there it is, your left arm is covered in sharp, deep, cuts and fresh blood is pouring out and dripping down on the carpet below you but you don't care, you're too out of it to do so.

_just- just go look for a sweatshirt to wear or- just- something with long sleeves [y/n]... he wasn't worth it, honey._

You ignore the sting of the cuts on your forearm and head towards your dresser to quickly put a grey hoodie out of it, it's way too large for you but you don't care, you actually like it better that way, you never liked your curves no matter how many praises you get about them.

You hiss in pain as you put your left arm into the hoodie and quickly put it over your head before putting your messy hair into an even messier bun on top of your head.

" **O** kay, put your smiley face on, [y/n], you know the drill." and, with that, you walk out of your room, a smile on your face as you walk through the corridor to get to the cafeteria but stop when you spot Randall walking out of the room, his head low, " **R** andall?"

He slightly turns his head towards you but you can't see it because he's still looking down at the ground so you decide to get closer to him, " **H** ey, princess."

" **A** -are you okay?"

" **Y** eah, you?"

" **R** andall, look at me- Please?"

You hear him let out an heavy sigh and, finally, he slowly brings his head up to look at you and tears roll down your face as you spot multiple bruises and bloody wounds, there's blood still oozing out of fresh cuts on his face. You take a few steps back as a sob rips through you and leaves your mouth.

" **I** -I did this- Randall- Randall I-I'm sorry."

" **Y** ou didn't do shit, [y/n], he-"

" **O** h my God- R-Randall, you-your face- Randall, your face."

" **H** ey-" he takes a small step towards you but you take three back.

" **D** -don't- I'm- I'm so sorry, Randall. I'm so sorry."

" **I** t's not your fault."

" **Y** es! Yes it is, of course it is! Look at your face, my God, Randall- Look what I did- I-I did this- I did this to you."

Your ears are ringing and you feel like you're about to pass out but, without even realizing that you've been walking for a little while now, you end up outside in the main yard where Negan's men and Negan himself are getting ready to head out on the supply run that you're supposed to go on as well today.

You look around and don't even realize that Negan is watching you from a distance, he knows he fucked up big time and he didn't mean any of what he said to you, he just wanted to hurt you because you shoved reality down his throat and he didn't appreciate the taste.

Your small fists are clenched and it looks like you're about to go on a rampage and you actually are about to do just that, at least that was your plan, until someone's firm grip on your right wrist keeps you from going anywhere near anyone.

" **Y** ou're not doing this. I'm not about to let you put yourself in serious danger just to pay for something you're not even responsible for, it's not fucking happening." Randall roughly whispers in your hear.

" **L** et go of me."

He harshly turns you around and presses you flush against him, kissing the top of your head, " **I** t's not your fault, [y/n]. I'm not about to sit there and watch you punish yourself for something you don't have anything to do with."

" **I** 'm so sorry Randall. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry." you cry against his chest, feeling guilty as all hell.

" **W** hat are you sorry about exactly, uh? I got my ass kicked, so what? Ain't the first damn time, sure as shit ain't gonna be the last, shit happens." he tries, hoping to get even a small amused huff out of you but it's like his words don't even register for you.

" **R** -Randall- I-"

" **A** lright you sorry fucks! Get your sorry asses in the trucks and let's get this fuckin' show on the road!" Negan orders with a shit eating grin on his face.

You get out of Randall's grip quickly and walk towards one of the big trucks before you get literally dragged on the side and you know it's Negan when you spot the leather covered hand holding your wirst, " **Y** ou're ridin' with daddy today, baby doll." he harshly whispers in your ear like he's got any right to be pissed.

You don't fight him, you can't, your whole body is numb and you're exhausted. You can feel blood dripping down your arm, soaking the soft fabric of the inside of your sleeve, making it stick to your skin and you know that the only thing that keeps everyone else from knowing what's happening to you is the tight ends of the hoodie's sleeves and because of how thick the piece of clothing is which keeps the blood from showing on the outside as your blood soaks the inside of the left sleeve.

Your head aches and spins from the blood loss and the anger you're feeling towards Negan as he acts as if there's nothing wrong and he didn't say what he said to you just a few minutes ago isn't helping with your blood pressure or your headache.

_"a charity case" "no one gives a shit" "grow the fuck up"_

He drags you into his truck, the same truck that dragged you into this hell of a place, put you into your seat, moving you around as he pleases like you're some kind of rag doll before closing the door on your side and getting behind the wheel, honking to signal Simon to start the engine of his truck and, as soon as he does, the gates open and Negan gets on the road first, Simon in the middle and Dwight is closing the road on his bike.

Negan puts some really old and kinda crappy country music on to fill the heavy silence there is between the two of you and whistles along to the song.

_that man really has fucking issues._

 

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**12:00 PM** **//**

All the trucks come to a stop when Negan orders them to park into a small town after hours of driving and you quickly jump out of the truck as it stops, trying to get away from him as fast as possible, you felt like crying the whole time he's been driving you around and you know that if he talks to you even once you'll end up tearing up again and you're sick of crying because of him.

" **A** lright! You all know the fucking drill, grab whatever the fuck you find and bring it back here, keep your fuckin' eyes peeled and stay together, you got that or do I have to fucking repeat that shit?"

They all answer with a "Got it, boss." and they start to make small groups before going inside the abandoned houses sitting around as Negan and Dwight stay put and as for you, you barely make it around the truck, a cough grabs their attention as they turn around to look at you.

" **M** ove your ass, get to it." Negan barks at you and, if it wasn't for the fact that you can barely stand right now, you'd have punch his face off and send it to the fucking moon for speaking to you like that. 

" **N** egan, I don't think she's feeling so w-"

A walker interrupts him and, as he draws his gun out and Negan gets a tighter grip on Lucille, they both frown when they see that the re-animated corpse pays no mind to them and heads directly for you, the smell of the blood pouring out of your fresh wounds luring it to you like a moth to a flame.

You struggle to keep your eyes open as you slowly reach for your knife but you're not fast enough and the walker is on top of you in a fraction of a second. You manage to fight it off and finally succeed to shove the blade of your weapon in its right eye, stabbing the walker multiple times around this area, making a mess, as you find yourself not being able to stop, you keep stabbing the limp, dead, body lying beneath yours, taking all of your anger, sadness and frustration out on it.

" **W** hat?!" you ask through your clenched jaw as you look up at Negan and Dwight which are still standing here, watching you.

You slowly get back on your feet and quickly lean down as you throw up yet again, right next the dead body lying on the ground.

" **W** hat the fuckin' shit-"

You look down and see what there's blood on the ground, a lot of it, and it's all yours, you just threw blood up but you don't have time to dwell on it when a giant, gloved, hand comes down on your mouth, covering it.

" **W** ell, hello there, darlin'." the owner of the hand covering your mouth speaks directly next to your ear, "I'm counting on you not to throw up in my fucking hand." you panic as you don't recognize the voice behind you and you hear multiple footsteps creeping up behind you as well, " **T** he name's Jason, nice to meet you guys. You all look like a bunch of happy assholes but I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to take a bit of your happiness away."

" **Y** ou do realize that you're not walking out of this alive, do you?" you hear Negan say and you decide to open your eyes.

You see Dwight with his gun out as well as Simon who's now behind Negan and there's almost a bunch of Negan's men standing there, guns in hand, you spot Randall and Connor and you see panic in their eyes as they load their guns, ready to open fire.

" **S** uch a pretty thing you got there," Jason declares and you can hear the smirk he's wearing in the tone of his voice, his mouth way to close to your ear for comfort, "I think I'm gonna bring her back home. What d'ya think, baby doll?"

You try to kick him with your feet but you're still losing a lot of blood and your body is practically limp by now which means that whatever you want doesn't really matter at the moment because this man is gonna be able to do just about anything to you anyways with your body being in the state it's in.

" **O** h, my bad darlin', my hand is on your pretty little mouth, here," his hand leaves your mouth and you gasp for air before dropping your head down, exhaustion draining any fight out of you, "go ahead now, tell me what you want." he insists but no sound comes out of your mouth, " **U** h? What's that? I don't hear a no, what about you guys?" his men's chuckles are all around you and you feel even sicker now.

" **L** et go of her and I might let you live, don't get your hopes up though, shithead." Negan says with a menacing smile.

" **E** asy there, I just want the girl. I got plenty of women back home but I need a lil princess too, y'know?" he pauses and looks down at you "And, I mean, shit, look at masterpiece you got there man, she yours?"

" **Y** es, she fucking is." Negan answers through gritted teeth.

" **R** eally now? You don't come across has the kind of man that'd be right for her."

" **W** ho the fuck do you think you're talking to, kid?"

" **C** hill, just trying to get some info, that's all."

Your heartbeat is getting faster and your whole body starts to shake against the stranger's body, you don't know what to do, you're getting dizzy and you feel tears running down on your face and they just keep coming.

" **W** ell, I'd stay a lil while longer and make chitchat but I have to take my lil princess back to my fucking castle, plus, to be perfectly honest here, you guys are kinda pricks, y'know? You should work on that."

With that, he wraps you up in his arms and lifts you up to hold you against his chest and nonchalantly walks away as gunshots start to ring through your ears. He just walks calmly, holding you tightly against him and you really want to kick around and get out of his grip, show some sign of life but you can't, it feels like you're slowly dying in this man's arms, everything goes black as you're gently shoved into the backseat of a car, your body lying down and the last thing you remember is hearing this Jason dude's voice ringing through your ears.

Back on the road, Negan gives one last swing into a man's head and groans as he turns around to harshly grab the last standing man from the rival group, dragging him into the back of Simon's truck.

" **H** ere's what's gonna happen now, we're driving this piece of shit back to the Sanctuary and beat some info out of his stupid fucking head, I'll get rid of him when I'll know what I need to fucking know. Simon, you're coming back with me and Dwight, you pick some men and you go have a look around the area, see if you can find anymore of these pricks, right fucking now!" 

He's pissed, he's beyond pissed, he's fucking scared. Someone just fucking stole his princess from him, someone just literally took you from him and the last thing he said to you was some pissy, unnecessarily rude bullshit. He looks around to look at all the dead bodies laying on the floor, there's blood everywhere; blood, guts and exploded heads.

" **C** 'mon, boss, the sooner we get this asshole to talk, the sooner [y/n]'ll be safe and sound." Simon says, walking towards his truck. He's worried as well, he actually really likes you, he likes the fact that you're not scared to talk back to him, he loves your attitude but most importantly he truly respects you.

" **F** ucking shit darling, daddy's gonna kill some dumb fucks and he'll come get you, you just fucking hang in there." Negan whispers to himself before going inside the truck but he changes his mind and tells Simon that he'll ride in the back with his new friend as he doesn't want to waste any time on getting directions that'll lead him to you.

He swiftly swings Lucille back on his shoulder, she's covered in fresh blood, bits of flesh and guts, as he composes himself, trying to look like he's not about to lose his fucking mind after what just happened. He swiftly opens the giant back doors of the white truck, getting inside as his new captive curls himself into a corner, Negan smiles and closes the doors behind him, banging in the inside of the vehicle to signal Simon to get going and the truck starts moving as he slowly gets closer to the man cowering in front of him.

" **H** i there, I believe I didn't introduce myself properly, so, my name's Negan and this," he says, swinging his bat around, "is Lucille and she's awesome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, so, that's chapter seven, yay. I hope that you guys liked it, as usual, I'm an horrible, anxious, stressed out, mess right now but, hey, what's new.
> 
> A/N: As always, I've proofread, I'm an anxious mess and I know there's awful mistakes in there and that most of them are from pure panic and not lack of knowledge, I hate everything.  
> Also! I just to thank you guys so so so so much for your support and your beautiful words, you're so sweet and kind to me, you make my freaking heart melt, you're all adorable and I love you all, so much.
> 
> AS ALWAYS, STAY SAFE, I LOVE YOU AND I'M ALWAYS HERE IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO.
> 
> A/N²: I DID NOT POST THIS STORY ANYWHERE ELSE BUT HERE SO IF YOU SEE IT ON TUMBLR AND SUCH PLEASE LET ME KNOW, PRETTY PLEASE, OKAY LOVE YOU.


	8. Burning Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People finally witness just how lethal and dangerous you can get when you've been pushed around for too long.

" **T** his is bullshit, D! She's out here, stuck with a fucking psycho and we're out here lookin' underneath the fucking leafs! What the hell! How'd he even get away with her, how the fuck did we let that shit happen?!"

" **C** alm the fuck down, Connor. Look, man, you're pissed, I get it-" Randall tries to calm him down before Dwight even gets a change to express how he feels about it all.

" **P** issed? Nah, man, I ain't pissed, I'm about to go fucking mental! We're fucking armed head to toe but when a random prick shows up and goes for [y/n]? Ain't shit happen, y'all didn't do shit! He had his fucking hands on her, mate! And you pricks didn't do shit about it, not until he fucking walked away oh so fucking casually with [y/n] in his arms, what the fuck?!"

Connor is about to snap once more when Randall pushes him against a nearby tree trunk to keep him still, " **H** ey, cut it! I'm fucking losing it too over here, okay? But if you want her back, you're gonna have to fucking keep quiet and pay attention to the fucking surroundings, we clear?"

" **S** he's gone, man- She's fucking gone. He fucking took her away from us." Connor whispers with a sad and worried tone no one's ever heard from him before.

" **Y** eah- he fucking did and that's why we're here, Connor. We'll get her back, no matter what it takes, y'know that."

Connor pushes Randall off of him and looks at him as well as the rest of the men around him, " **Y** ou saw that shit, you heard that shithead as well as I fucking did, Randall. How can you be so fucking calm, uh? I don't even want to imagine the shit he'll do to her if we don't get there in time, he looked and sure as shit talked like a fucking psychotic rapist, y'all saw the way he was looking at her but you didn't do shit!"

And then, it's complete silence, no one dares to say a word because they know Connor is right. They didn't do anything, they got here too late and they waited for Negan to give the order to shoot but he never did, so they just watched it all happen like idiots.

" **Y** 'all so full of shit. C'mon, let's walk through the fucking woods, we can even sing campfire songs if y'all feel like it. Welcome back to CandyLand, assholes!" Connor spits before heading further into the woods, anger and worry being a dangerous mix on him.

 

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" **I** 'm going to kill you, you know that, right?"

" **W** ell, look who's awake! You're a lil grumpy." Jason says as he looks at you and flashes you a smile through the rear-view mirror, " **I** get it, I fucking hate getting out of bed too, princess."

You look around and realize that you're in a moving car, lying down on the backseats, your whole body is aching and he's driving with a feral smirk plastered on his face.

_what's wrong with people nowadays?_

" **S** top the fucking car, you prick."

" **L** anguage, darling. Such a pretty girl shouldn't let out such mean, ugly words out of her pretty little mouth."

" **G** et fucked you sorry fuck. You think I give a single shit what you think about my fucking manners? Well, I got news for you, asshole, I couldn't fucking care less... You fucking fuck."

" **Y** ou're pissed 'cause I took you away from your group? 'Cause if that's what you're giving me attitude for I get i-"

" **S** hut the fuck up, you don't know shit."

" **G** oddamn, c'mon, throw me a bone here, girly."

" **O** h, you want a bone, uh? How about the bones of my fucking fist breaking your jawbone? Uh, how 'bout that for a fucking bone?"

The car stops violently, lunching you forward but you manage to hold yourself in place. You hear Jason unbuckle his seat-belt and get out of the vehicle, angrily slamming the door behind him, before opening your door quickly and grabbing your wounded forearm to drag you out of the car.

" **L** et go of me, you sorry fuck!"

You wiggle out of his grip and take your blood covered butterfly knife out of your jeans, pointing the blade right at him.

" **E** asy there." he coos with a smile that does nothing but make your blood boil to new degrees.

" **E** asy? Are you fucking kidding me?! You fucking dragged me out here, you've been treating me like a fucking toy! Who the fuck are you and what do you want from me?"

" **I** 'm Jason-"

" **D** on't play with me, you know damn well I wasn't asking for your fucking I.D."

He lets out a laugh, clearly amused by your attitude but you're not amused at all, you're beyond pissed, you didn't need this shit today, not after what happened with Negan, not with the state your body is in at the moment.

" **L** ike I explained to your boyfriend back there, I just want you to be a part of my little family. We have a shitload of fun, y'know."

_boyfriend?_

" **B** oyfriend?"

" **Y** eah, I though so, the dude with the baseball bat? He said you were his, but you're not, are you?"

_i technically am, actually... i'm pretty sure._

" **S** 'complicated."

" **I** 'm sure it is." he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

" **A** nyways, stop making shit about me, what do _you_ want from me? It's the last time I ask, I'll start piercing holes in your stomach if I have to repeat myself again."

" **D** amn, you ain't scared of shit, are you? Okay, then," he steps closer to you and you really want to take a step back, run away, scream, but you don't, you don't want to show him any sign of fear or weakness, " **I** 've had my eyes on you for a while now, [y/n], you're just so fucking sexy-"

" **W** hat the hell is wrong with you, get away from me, you're a fucking creep."

Negan called you "fucking pretty/sexy/hot" plenty of times but it never sounded creepy coming from him, just flirtatious, nothing more, nothing less. This dude is creeping the shit out of you and he seems to notice.

" **D** 'you have any idea how many times I watched you do your thing out there? You're seriously impressing with that bow of yours-"

You actually start to feel around your body at the mention of your bow, looking for it, when you realize that your backpack and your bow have been abandoned on the spot when Jason took you away from the Saviors.

" **W** ere you stalking me? What the fuck!"

" **E** h, I don't like that word, I prefer to call it- Studying."

" **S** tudying? Studying... Sure, how 'bout I fucking study what's inside a fully fed human body, you can be my dummy, let's do this shit, I love studying."

" **W** hat are you so pissed about exactly? I'm offering you shelter, food, warm water and electricity. Why are you fighting me, darling?"

" **G** ood question, I wonder. Something must be seriously wrong with me to turn down such an opportunity..." you say, rolling your eyes.

" **E** veryone has needs, baby, and I'm all about helping you with fulfilling them."

" **W** -what?"

" **C** 'mon, don't tell me you don't need to get a good fuck, I mean- Maybe that's why these dudes really didn't want you to be taken away from them... You're their little bitch, aren't you, darling?"

Your already shaking and aching body starts to burn from head to toe, you can't think of anything to say... You seriously start to wonder if you've done something horribly wrong while you were asleep for people to treat you like shit today or if it's just not your day at all.

Jason pushes you flush against him and you don't dare make a move, all the anger in you is starting to make your blood boil but you ignore it, there's no way you're dying today because of your inability to control yourself even though you can feel your hand tightening around your knife's handle, getting ready to shove the sharp blade in his throat.

" **C** 'mon, we still have a little way ahead of us."

He drags you back into his car, shoving you carelessly into the backseats before slamming the door close and getting behind the well, he locks the doors of the vehicle, smiling at you, before putting the keys in the ignition, starting the car as tears blur your vision again.

_what in the holy hell..._

 

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" **I** swear man, I don't know anything about that chick! I swear!"

" **S** imon, do your thing."

Simon nods his head before closing a pair of thick scissors down on the ring finger belonging to the tied up hostage, forcing down on it to cut the digit off, making the young man cry out in pain and wiggle around in the wooden chair he's trapped on as his amputated finger falls on the cold, hard, ground beneath him, blood pouring out of his hand.

" **F** UCK!"

" **Y** ou already lost three fucking fingers buddy, I'll fucking start talking if I were you. I mean, not that I'm complaining, y'know? Watching you shit yourself and cry like a lil' bitch is actually pretty damn entertaining." Negan snarls, hovering over the man tied in the chair.

They've been at it for four hours now, there's blood on the floor, on Negan and Simon's clothes, the man they're questioning past out two times and they barely have a clue about where you are which only serves to piss off and anger Negan even further.

" **J** ason- Jason said he spotted a pretty girl in the woods weeks ago but- I- I had no idea it was her, I had no fucking idea, man! He only described her to us, we had no real idea of what she looked like! C'mon, man, I'm trying to fucking cooperate here!"

" **W** here'd he take her."

" **I** -I can't tell you that, man, you already killed half of us!"

" **Y** ou only have your fucking thumb and pinkie finger left on your fucking right hand, which one do we get rid of next? Thumb or pinkie?"

" **F** uck, no, please! Wait! It's an old factory! It's hidden behind a thick forest, no one can spot it from afar, that's why he-"

" **T** he old candy factory?"

" **Y** -yes, that's where we live, he- I think he's gonna put her down in the basement, that's what he said at least- He- He said that he knew she'd put up a fight so he's been putting some shit down in the basement for when he'd get to her but- I swear I don't know what he-"

" **S** hut the fuck up." Negan slowly get up from his kneeling position, making himself even bigger than he was before in front of his scared hostage before speaking to Simon, his eyes never leaving the ones belonging to the young man sitting in front of him, " **Y** ou see where that is, Simon?"

" **Y** es, boss."

" **G** ood, then go get some fucking guns and tell your men to get into the trucks, we're going."

" **Y** eah, f'course."

" **B** e right out."

Simon nods his head before leaving the dark room he's been in for now four hours straight, running to get things ready to bring you back to safety as fast as possible.

" **P** -please- I- I'm sorry about your girl but- I don't have shit to do with it."

" **R** emember Lucille?" Negan asks with a wicked smile on his face, as he swings his wire covered baseball bat right in front of his hostage's face.

" **F** -fuck, man, c'mon, that shit's fucked up!"

" **D** amn right it is."

Negan gives him an amused laugh before violently bringing Lucille down on the man's skull, killing him instantly but he just keeps swinging his bat into the now headless body, letting his anger out and he finally calms down after a few minutes.

" **D** addy's coming, baby doll." he breathlessly grunts out.

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You get thrown into what looks like a dirty, creepy, old basement, falling on your knees, wincing in pain as your skin gets ripped on the hard ground.

" **I** 'm gonna let you calm down for a few minutes, get your bearings, yeah? I'll be right back baby doll, be good, okay?" he says, knelled next to you on the floor.

" **P** -please- Just let me go, it doesn't have to be bad- I can't-"

" **S** hh, t's'okay, baby." he pushes a strand of hair away from you face, dragging his fingertips across your skin as he does, and you have to hold back not to puke at the unwanted touch, "Nothing bad's gonna happen, not as long as you behave."

With that, he kisses your forehead and leaves the basement, going up a wooden staircase and leaving you on the cold, hard, ground, your knees bloody and bruised now.

You look around, panic taking over you as you realize just how small the room is. You're locked in a small, cold, dark room and there's nothing you can do to make it better for you, you hate confined spaces.

You find yourself hoping that Negan'll show up to save you but quickly shake the thought off.

_you don't need him, you don't need saving._

You usually don't need to be saved, you always find a way but, right now, it seems almost impossible for you to get out of this situation with the state your mind and body are in, blood is still oozing out of the deep cuts on your forearm and you decide to take a look at them.

You slowly roll the left sleeve of the grey hoodie up your arm, sobbing in pain when the fabric rubs against the opened wounds and a shocked gasp escapes you when you see just how bloody your arm is and how deep the cuts actually are.

_oh, shit... this is bad, [y/n]... they're way too deep._

" **O** h, god..."

The door of the basement opens, letting some light shine in the room, and quickly closes, drowning the room in darkness again, you push yourself against the wall behind you with your arms when you see Jason walking towards you. Putting his hands up as if he doesn't mean you any harm, he walks over to you and he kneels down to look at your small, shaking, frame sitting on the ground, stuck between him and a wall.

You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as you realize that you didn't have time to roll your sleeve back down to cover your cuts and he's now eyeing them and... Is that amusement in his eyes?

_what the fuck?_

" **D** amn, you're a real cute lil' psycho, aren't you."

_psycho?_

" **T** hat's fucked up." he pauses and looks at your face, watching closely as you break right in front of him, " **F** ucking hell, you look hot as all hell even when you're crying your lil' heart out, good God."

_he called you a psycho... because of your cuts... your self-inflicted... cuts._

" **H** ow long's it been since your last meal, beautiful?" you don't answer him, you can't, you're completely frozen, everything feels so unreal to you right now, " **A** lright then, you don't want to talk? S'fine, you'll come around, they always do and you're no different, I just have a feeling about you."

He gives you a pat on the head and gets up before walking out of the basement, slamming and locking the door behind him.

" **D** ad, I'm scared... I'm so scared." you whisper, curling yourself up against the cold, hard brick wall behind you, bringing your knees to your chest before putting your head in your thighs. Oddly soft sobs leaving your mouth as tears stain your jeans, " **W** hat do I do, dad? I don't know what to do."

 

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 **FLASHBACK** **//**   **7:00 AM** **//**   **SANCTUARY** **//**

Negan angrily climbs the stairs leading to his headquarters, your words pissed him off beyond belief. He's so used to people always complying and doing as he says, he's so used to have people telling him just what he wants to hear, he's not used to rebellion or, even worse, to have the harsh truth rubbed on his face and you just changed the hell out of his habits.

" **N** egan, baby, what's wrong?"

He hears one of his "wives" asks in a flirtatious way and he usually wouldn't really mind but, right now? It angers him even further, " **N** one of your goddamn business that's what! Now go back to doing your fuckin' nails or some shit, I don't want to hear any of you for the rest of the damn day and don't you fucking dare come disturb me, we clear?"

She only nods, shocked by his outburst, these women are the only people Negan usually treats with "respect", he never raised his voice at any of them but he doesn't give a shit at the moment.

He slams the door of his office before carefully dropping Lucille on his desk as he takes a long look at her.

" **F** ucking shit- What the hell is that girl doin' to me..."

He knows every single words that you said were needed and justified, but his? They were only meant to hurt and cut you as deep as possible and, oh boy, did he succeed. He knows he should run back to you, make sure that you're okay and apologies but he won't, his pride being a major issue in the matter.

He lets out a frustrated grunt before slamming his fist on his desk angrily, he's pissed because you made him snap out of something he didn't want to snap out of. You made him realize just how meaningless the women he calls his "wives" are to him and, in a way, he already knew that, he never had any kind of feelings for any of them, just pride and cockiness to have a goddamn harem. It's just sex, that's all it's always been, nothing more and most times way less but then you came into his life and you fucked something up for him, you fucked with his pride and emotions without even trying.

With the attitude you give him and the way you talk back to him? He usually would've kick you out off the compound a while ago but he can't, he doesn't want to, it wouldn't be justified at all to him.

You broke something in him that needed to be destroyed for a while now and he knows that but it's weird to him, he hates not being in complete control. The anger he felt when he heard and saw his "wife"? It wasn't anger you created, no, it's anger that appeared the moment he heard her high-pitched voice ringing in his ears.

A knock on his door snaps him out of his thoughts, he grunts, pissed off, " **W** hat the fuck did I just fucking sa-"

" **S** 'me" Negan's eyes widen when he sees Randall, a bloody, bruised covered Randall, pushing the door of the office open before inviting himself in his boss' office, no fear showing in his eyes but anger is all over them.

Negan lets out a small laugh, walking around his desk to lean against it as he watches the young man in front of him, " **Y** ou got some fucking balls, kid."

" **Y** ou're full of shit, y'know that?"

" **S** ay that shit aga-"

" **I** fucking heard you, okay?! I heard the fucked up shit you said to her! You really ain't shit, man! You fucking dragged me in that shit as well, you fucking told her that I don't give a shit? Fuck you! I fucking care about that girl, sure as shit care about her more than you fucking do, you dick!"

" **D** o I seriously have to start hitting your fucking face again, kiddo?" Negan says through gritted teeth.

Randall let out a dry laugh, " **S** ure, go ahead, I don't give a shit." he takes a look at his boss and clenches his jaw, "I ran out of my room after I heard you tell her that all I want from her is sex and I'm kinda glad that I did 'cause I'm not sure I wanna know what kind of fucked up shit you fed her with afterwards."

" **T** ell me it ain't the case, Randall. Go ahead, tell me you don't want to fuck the girl."

" **I** don't! I fucking don't, shit! I actually really fucking care about [y/n]."

" **W** hat, you think I don't care about her?"

" **N** ot after what you spat at her face, no. I know you don't give a shit about her! You just want sex from her, d'you even take the time to have a fucking conversation with her? Lemme guess, nah, you fucking didn't. If you had, you would want nothing but for her to be happy, sure as shit is what I want for her."

" **Y** ou're on fucking thin ice, Randy boy."

" **W** hat, am I hurting your fucking ego? She'll never let you have her, Negan! She wouldn't do that 'cause she's not like all of your stupid whores!"

" **H** ey, now-"

" **N** o! She doesn't fucking need you and it pisses you off. She's strong, stronger than all of us combined I'm fucking sure, she provides for herself and she doesn't open her legs to you, she has everything those bitches you keep around could never fucking have, she's the one damn thing left on this planet that you'll never be able to claim and you damn well know it!"

" **R** andall, shut your fucking mouth before it gets ugly again."

" **Y** ou've beat my ass 'cause you're scared that I'll take her from you? Shit, I might as well, uh? At least I'll fucking care for her, I already do. You're fucking scared 'cause you know that she deserves way better than you!"

Randall's breathing is fast and ragged, his chest heavily falling up and down, his eyes watery from anger and sadness. He's about to walk out of Negan's office but he has one last thing that has to be let out of his chest, " **Y** 'know, if you really gave a shit about [y/n], you'll get rid of these whores and commit to her. 'Cause she's the only thing left in this world worth sacrificing shit for any more. There's no other [y/n] walking this Earth, there just isn't. Earn this one or die being the lonely, stupid, egocentric, prick that you are, Negan. But she won't wait for you, that's not who she is, she doesn't give a fuck about your pride and she's right not to. She deserves way better than any of us, the least we can do is try and be decent human beings for her."

And, right after the end of his sentence, Randall leaves Negan's apartments, slamming the door behind him, leaving Negan completely frozen in place in his office.

The kid's right. You do deserve better than him and he is fucking scared to lose you completely because of that fact, he knows that you're worth everything in this world but his pride is getting in the way.

He wants you all to himself, you're different from his "wives", he doesn't have any kind of feelings for them, not at all, he doesn't even kiss them all that much 'cause he believes the act to be too intimate but he has no problems kissing **you** like his life depends on it. 

He loves kissing you, he truly does, he can't get enough of you, he loves the way you taste, it's like you're his one craving and he doesn't even need to be away from you to crave you like a mad man, he craves you all the damn time. It's like you've become his drug at some point and he hates how depend he became.

He's not used to this, he's usually always in control but his emotions seem to be giving him a big 'ol "fuck you" on that one and he hates that he doesn't have any choice but to feel what you do to him, and, good God, the things you do to him are unbearable.

 

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The wooden door of the basement creaks open and you hear heavy footsteps walking down the stairs. You have to do something, you know that, you don't want to kill but it doesn't feel like you're gonna have much of a choice.

Your shaky right hand reaches for your knife tucked in the waistband of your jeans, and you get a tight hold on it before swiftly pulling it out, your knuckles white around the handle.

_it's okay, you don't have a choice anyway, [y/n]._

You slowly nod your head, taking in what's about to happen in a short instant, when you get violently kicked in the ribs, the force behind the hit making you fall on the ground, your knife slipping out of your grip and you groan in pain, holding your sides.

" **B** ad girl, [y/n]." Jason mocks through gritted teeth, kicking your knife away and out your reach, " **S** uch a shame too, you were doin' so good, baby."

" **W** -what do you want f-from me?" you ask, your voice coming out as a whine rather than a roar due to the pain you're experiencing.

" **Y** ou, it's as simple as that."

" **I** 'd rather die then to let you touch me, you fucking pig."

Jason lets out a dry laugh before shoving the tip of his hard boot straight into your stomach, making you cough uncontrollably, " **W** ell, that's too bad 'cause I don't plan on killing you anytime soon."

You're about to snap when he grabs your shaking, limp body and lifts you up like you're nothing to him. He carries you to the dusty, dirty bed sitting in the corner of the basement and panic starts to kick in as you start wiggling around in his hold, trying to get out of his grip but he throws you on the bed effortlessly with a smile on his lip before you can manage to get away from him. You feel like sick.

" **A** lright now, I think I deserve a lil' fun out of you after all the shit you've put me through. It's only fair after all, ain't it, sugar?"

_well, lucky me, I don't have shit left to throw up anymore..._

" **P** -please, don't."

You try so hard to get away from him but he just grabs your ankles and brings you right back to him every goddamn time, you feel like screaming and crying in frustration right about now.

" **D** amn," he looks at you, spotting the tears and panic in your eyes, "you're a lil' virgin, aren't you?" the way he speaks and stares at you is sincerely sickening and you can feel your stomach turning into a mess of knots, " **G** oddamn, it just keeps on getting better and better, doesn't it, beautiful?"

A choked sob comes out of your mouth when you feel his dirty paws crawling underneath your sweatshirt, applying pressure on your swollen ribs.

" **D** -don't touch me- You can't do that."

" **W** hy the fuck not?" he asks, tilting his head like you've just taught him something that he doesn't quite understand.

" **B** ecause- Because I d-don't want you to!"

" **Y** ou're adorable."

_well, fuck you too buddy..._

He puts his hands out of your hoodie and you're about to let out a relieved sigh but you quickly choke on it when you feel his hands sliding your jeans down your shaking legs, " **L** ook at those chubby lil' thighs." he lets out a low whistle and brings his attention back to your face when you let out yet another cry yet, it doesn't stop him from bringing his hands up to pull your grey hoodie up right under your breast, looking at your tummy, " **D** amn, aren't you a chubby lil' princess, look at that lil' tummy."

You can't hold your sobs in anymore, the situation was bad enough as it was without having him talking about your body and looking at it. You move your hands to grab your top, trying to pull it back down to cover your exposed skin but he harshly slaps your hands away.

" **S** tay still now, baby." you feel bile coming up in your throat when he bits down on his bottom lip as he eye every single inch of exposed skin, " **L** et me look my fill, princess."

" **P** -please - Just - Put it b-back down, please." you plead but he hushes you and does the complete opposite of what you asked him to do as he takes your hoodie completely off of your body, " **N** o, no, no! G-Give it back!."

He completely ignores you, pushing you back down on the mattress when you push yourself up to try and get your hoodie back, and you start to wonder if he even hears you anymore. He looks so fucking out of it.

You push your legs together when you feel him pulling at your panties, trying to shove them down like he did with your pants but you're not going down without a fight.

_fuck that._

" **F** ucking hell! Cut the crap girly, you don't want to piss me off, believe me!"

" **G** o to hell, I said no!"

" **I** don't give a shit what you said, I don't give a single shit what you want either!"

_"he doesn't give two shits"  "he just want to get in your pants."_

Negan's words come back to you and hit you right in the face, hurting you more than the man on top of you ever could.

You're angry, you're angry because you realize that the only reason why you're so panicked is not because there's a grown man touching you without your consent right at this instant... No, you're scared to disappoint Negan... What would he think if you were to lose your virginity to anyone else but him? And why the fuck does it only feel right to you when you think about Negan being the one taking that small part of you away? You're lost, you like him more than you should and it angers you.

Anger is eating you alive, completely consuming you. You've took so much shit and never made a beep about it for so long maybe this time is the one that'll break the glass for good, " **I** said no!"

You eye your knife which is laying on the floor a few feet away from you and **way** out of your reach and you feel like screaming in frustration.

Nothing is going your way, it just keeps on getting more and more difficult for you to fight back. But you're your biggest weapon and you know that, people are always underestimating you because you're extremely shy and you look "angelic" as they like to put it but the things you can do, the damages you can manage do afflict with your bare fists are on the edge between scary and impressive.

You're brought out of your thoughts when you feel Jason's hands wandering inside of your thighs and it's like something inside of your head breaks. You swing your left, clenched shut fist for it to collide against his jawbone and he slightly loses his balance after the blow. It feels like you're losing all control you had over yourself so far as you push him on the mattress and shower his face with violent punches, you're straddling his waist as your small fists keep on coming down on his face which is quickly turning into a bloody mess.

" **I** said no, I said no, I said no!"

You keep on repeating this exact same sentence for what seems like hours, your punches never slowing down not even for a small second, you let your frustration, your sadness, your panic and all of your anger out on him and, while most of these emotions are towards him, you know that some of them are here because of Negan. 

You slowly come to a stop, completely out of breath, and you take a good long look at him to see that he's barely breathing and that his face doesn't look like anything really human anymore. With a huff, you slowly get off of his body, sighing when you realize that you're in your underwear, your jeans down to your ankles and you quickly tug them back up around your waist before scanning the room, looking for your grey sweatshirt.

" **Y** ou fucking brat."

You hear Jason mumble with difficulty but you just shrug it off as you spot your hoodie laying on the floor, a few centimeters away from your butterfly knife. You quickly put your top back on and grab your knife before turning around, carefully looking at Jason, he looks like he's about to die right there and then.

" **G** o ahead girly, finish me off. You're one lil' psycho, y'know that?"

" **Y** eah, I've been told." you coldly snap back before reaching for the handgun sticking out of his pants' waistband, checking the magazine before loading a bullet in the chamber.

" **A** w, c'mon, finish me off like the psychotic bitch you are, [y/n]. Chop me up in tiny pieces with that knife of yours, I know that's what you want to do."

You seriously did considered it for a strong minute but you quickly dropped the idea, knowing that it's only your anger talking, you don't want to kill people, not unless you have no other option.

_he's gonna do it again, [y/n]! this fucker's been fucking stalking you for weeks, he just tried to- just fucking kill the bastard, you can't just walk away from this one, you can't and you know it._

" **S** hut up, man." and, with that, you shove your knife's blade right beneath his jaw, cutting into the flesh of his throat before he can't even say a word. You watch as he coughs up blood, some on you landing on you, for a few seconds before his body goes completely limp on the old bed he's lying on.

You find your right hand gently petting your left forearm where your deep, bleeding cuts are and you let out a small sigh.

_you'll take care of that later._

You slowly nod your head, agreeing with your own thoughts before walking away from the bed. Slowly heading up the wooden staircase, you carefully make your way towards the door that kept you locked in this place for what feels like ages, and you harshly push it open, not caring about the noise you're making. You already know you're winning this war, let them come for you, they won't last.

" **H** ey! What the fu-"

You don't let the man guarding the door of the basement finish his sentence as you quickly shove your knee against his stomach, swiftly taking his radio and gun off of him before literally throwing him down into the basement. You watch as he falls down the stairs and you can't help but flip him off before closing the door and locking it.

" **H** ave fun, asshole." you bitterly spit out, knowing that Jason is bound to wake up at some point since you didn't damage his brain, you only cut his throat and seriously fucked up his face.

You smash the man's radio on the ground before tugging his gun in the waistband of your jeans, you've escaped for only a minute and you're already armed with two guns and you took two men out, not bad.

You start walking further down the long, cold corridor leading to a big door but you stop when you hear screams and calls for help coming from the basement.

" **D** amn, that was quick. Guess Jason never wastes time when he has the opportunity to fuck someone's day up, uh?" you mumble to yourself.

Ignoring the man's screams, you slowly push the heavy door in front of you, your eyes getting hit by sunlight and you have to take a few seconds to re-adjust though you quickly get out of whatever building you're in when you hear footsteps coming your way.

" **Y** ou think Jason's done with her already? I wanna have some fun with that piece of ass, too."

" **Y** eah, no shit, man."

_you fuckers are lucky that I have better things to be doing right now or I'll fucking strangle you to death, you sorry fucks._

They both sound gross and it only urges you on to get the hell out of this fucking place. You walk slowly, making as little noise as possible, you stick against the walls, looking around to try and find some kind of escape route but you don't have any success so far.

You stop when you spot a huge gate and you feel your heartbeat getting faster. This is it, this is your ticket out of this hell of a place.

" **F** uck, guys! He- He's fucking dead, Jason's fucking dead!" a man exclaims, completely out of breath, as he runs towards the men guarding the front gate and into your field of vision.

" **W** hat? Hold on man, you're shitting me, right?"

" **N** o, dude! The little bitch ran away, we can't fucking find her, she fucking killed Jason and Tom too!"

" **F** ucking hell, what the fuck?!"

_well shit... meh, they were bound to see the mess you've made at some point anyway, right?_

You see the men guarding the gate loading their guns, looking around, " **C** heck the whole fucking compound! You guys stay right there, she might come through if she's not already gone, ain't no way she's getting out of here in one piece." one of them orders as they all take their own patrol route while three armed men stay at the gate.

_oh, so spooky, whatever shall you do now? are they serious? we're so killing them._

You look around, spotting one of them further away from the two others guarding the gate so you slowly get closer to him. Checking your surroundings one last time, you literally jump him from behind, your left hand covering his mouth before dragging him out of sight, you shove the blade of your knife in his head and it proves to ask for more force than it does with walkers, their heads being putrefied and all.

" **O** ne down." you whisper to yourself, trying to give yourself a rhythm.

You go back to your previous spot, checking for anyone who might have spot you or realize that they're missing a buddy by now. No one.

You let out a small sigh before tightening your grip on your weapon when you spot a man coming a little too close to you. For a second, you're tempted to get out of here guns blazing but you know that the chances for you to get wounded in this scenario are way higher than if you stick to your sneaky ways.

You quickly kick in the man's calve, making him fall down, before climbing on top of him and slitting his throat wide open, you get covered in blood in the process but that's a small detail right about now. You get back up and grab the man's rifle before running towards the only standing man left still guarding the gates.

You don't think about it, you just take your handgun out and shoot him straight in the head, you know that you only have a few seconds before his friends come running so you quickly push the heavy gate open with the small amount of energy you have left in you and run out as fast as you possibly can. You don't look back, you just run, you don't know where to and you don't care, anywhere is better than this fucking place.

You hear gunshots behind you and a bullet ends up entering your back, right below your right ribs, you want to stop and scream in pain but your feet just keep on carrying you forward.

After hours and hours of running, you finally stop, completely out of breath. Your body is in so much pain, it feels like you're about to pass out from it all. You pull at random cars' doorknobs and, finally, one opens so you quickly climb in the comfortable backseats, escaping the bunch of walkers that have been following you, some of them joined the party when they smelled the fresh blood pouring out of your body you assume, you're not too sure, all you know is that there's a lot of them by now and you can't run anymore.

" **S** hoot- This is bad, this is really bad, dude." you quickly push your hoodie up to your bellybutton, trying to see if there's an exit point on your tummy but you see none, " **F** uck... It's still in me, the bullet's still in... Fuckety fuck..."

You reach behind your body and take a quick look at the entry point of the bullet and it's safe to say that whoever shot you fucked you up pretty badly, the wound is throbbing and bleeding quite a lot.

You let yourself fall into the comfortable seat that you're sitting on and wince in pain when your fresh bullet wound makes contact with the soft yet hard seat. You look around the car, the windows are tainted which is really cool, it's really big and spacious  whatever car it is, the seats are all black leather, there's some old, dry, blood on the driver's seat but it doesn't really surprise you and you read "RANGE ROVER" in the center of the black wheel of the car.

You catch a few walkers walking right by you through the car's windows, their vision is really bad so the fact that the windows are tainted is really a plus, all you have to do is stay quiet. But you can't.

Before you know it, you find yourself laughing softly as tears roll down your face, you turn into a laughing and sobbing mess in a matter of seconds as you come to realize that you've reach **that** point of your life. You've reach that point where your body is telling you enough, where your mind is telling you to stop pretending everything is always alright, where you realize that you seriously need rest and some fucking care for once.

You never though that you'll reach this point yet here you are, locked in a car, walkers walking all around you but somehow not paying attention to you, your body all beaten and bloody, your mind tired and out of positive thinking.

It feels like you're slowly dying on the inside but you can't let that happen. You can't let it happen because you're all you have, all you ever had and ever **will** have. You've lost a lot of people but you refuse to lose you too, it's not happening.

 

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 **FLASHBACK** **//** ** 12 y/o ofc //**  ** THREE YEARS** **BEFORE THE OUTBREAK** **//**

 

" **L** una, no smoking, remember?." you say as you walk into your neighbor's living room, finding her smoking on her balcony.

It's snowing outside. She turns to look at you, her eyes a soft, calming green, and she's wearing a genuine smile on her face as she puts the cigarette out, " **H** ello to you too, sweet cheeks."

" **J** eez, get inside, you're gonna freeze out here." You softly grab her arm, pulling her inside with you before gently sitting her down on her big black velvet couch.

" **H** ow was school today?"

" **O** h, well, y'know... School." you lie, giving her a small smile as you throw some wood into her chimney to get a fire started, " **H** ow about you, how was your day?" you ask as you sit down next to her on the comfortable couch, kicking your knee high boots off.

" **S** ame old, same old." she says, looking at the fire burning high in front of you.

" **S** o... What did the doctor say?" you ask in a whisper, terrified to actually hear the answer to that question, "Is it- Like- Is it... What's the word? Acute? Or, like, chronic?"

" **A** cute, darlin'."

" **W** hich means that... It's getting worse as we're talking, right?"

" **Y** es, basically."

Luna has been diagnosed with leukemia a month ago and you've been looking after her ever since, she's been your best friend for eight years now. Despite the huge age gape there is between the two of you, you can't imagine a better friend than her. She took care of you when your dad died and your mom became abusive and she was right by your side when your mom committed suicide last year. She's all you have left and soon enough she'll leave you too.

" **A** re you- Are you scared?"

" **O** h, darling, no, of course not." she says, her soft voice almost making you burst into tears as she carefully watches you with gentle eyes, "I'm seventy years old, I'm fully happy with the way I have lived my life, honey. I'm ready to go."

" **W** -what about me?" you ask, swallowing your tears.

At that, she gently brings a soft hand to your right cheek, turning your head towards her and wiping away the single tear that escaped your eye.

" **Y** ou? You're gonna be just fine, my love. You're so strong and I'm so proud of you." she smiles and gently hushes you when another tear slips away from you, "Don't you dare ever depend on anyone, honey. I know you might think that you'll be all alone when I'm be gone but you won't, because you will always have you. You are, by far, the best company anyone could ever ask for." she pauses for a second to examine your face, " **Y** ou've been through so much crap, honey, I know it's unfair and if I could take it all away, believe me, I would without a second thought but it happened and this is where you're at now." gently, she brings you close to her and wraps her arms around your body, holding you tight against her own, " **Y** ou're so strong, you're the prettiest girl this world ever had the chance to carry, you're ridiculously sweet, you care so much about people and most of all you're so, so, important. I'm not the one who kept you afloat for all those years, you kept yourself, as well as me, afloat. You carried me for so long, you gave me the opportunity to do things I never though I'll ever be able to do again and I cannot thank you enough for that."

" **I** love you, Luna." you sob out into her neck, your hands clinging to her like you're afraid she'll vanish if you don't.

" **I** love you too, [y/n], so much." she whispers in your hair, " **Y** ou'll always be my little warrior, princess, no matter what." everything is so calm and, for a minute, it feels like there's nothing in the world but the two of you, " **H** oney, can you make me a promise?"

" **O** f course."

" **P** romise me that you'll never let a man mistreat you, you deserve to be treated like a queen and nothing less. And... Promise me that you'll never lose who you are and that you'll never apologize for being the amazing being that you are."

" **I** promise, Luna." you promise with a weak smile on your lips though she can't see it, tears running down your face.

Slowly, she start rocking you softly back and forth, humming a soft tone against the top of your head and you let the warmth of the fire and the gentleness of her movement put you to sleep in her arms.

 

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" **I** promise." you whisper to yourself as you feel your body slowly falling into a deep, well deserved sleep in the backseat of the car you've found refuge in. 

The groans of the dead outside make you feel somehow safer as blood keeps on pouring out of your open wounds. You don't know how you'll wake up in the morning or if you'll even make it 'till sunrise but it's out of your hands anyway so you might as well rest for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY(?) CHAPTER EIGHT IS HERE BABY CAKES.  
> HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU, I TRULY HOPE THAT 2017 WILL BE GOOD TO YOU, YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY, GOD DAMN IT. GO GET 'EM, OWN THIS YEAR AND KICK SOME ASS.
> 
> A/N; seriously though, happy new year to all of you, I wish you all beautiful things and lots of love.  
> As usually, I'mma tell you all about how I've proofread my work but I'm still an anxious mess and I know that there's some mistakes due to pure panic in there, so, yeah, I'm sorry.
> 
> IMPORTANT: SEXUAL ABUSE SHOULD UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES BE SEXUALIZED. RAPE IS NOT A JOKE NOR SOMETHING TO BE TAKING LIGHTLY, NEVER FORGET THAT.  
> IF YOU'VE BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.
> 
> I love you, stay safe and don't hesitate if you need someone to talk to, I'm right here.


	9. Picking The Broken Pieces Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long-ish wait on this chapter but I've had the worst kind of writer block there is, the chapter was more than halfway done and I just wasn't sure if I liked the way it was written so I've spent hours and hours trying to think about a better way to get to where I wanted the story to go. It was super frustrating because I knew exactly what I wanted out of this specific chapter but I just wasn't happy with the way it came out, so, yeah, I did take more time than I usually do but I want to be as happy as possible with my work, I already have a hard time enough as it is to do so because of my lack of confidence and all the anxiety I get so it's important for me to put something that I'm at least a little happy with out there.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter and that you're not too mad at me for the wait.
> 
> I love you all, stay safe ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ.
> 
> -Célia.

**7:00** **AM** **//**

The sun is slowly rising, the sky is a soft pink, and you slowly start to wake from your deep sleep, mumbling how much you hate mornings but it only comes out as weird small noises.

" **U** uuugh, I don't wanna, I refuse." you turn on your stomach on the backseats of the car and shove your face into the leather covering the seats, groaning in defeat, " **I** hate everything."

_well that's really negative thinking right there._

You let out yet another groan when you hear walkers still roaming around the area, " **R** eally? Y'all don't have somewhere to be or something? C'mon, dude, not cool."

You slowly rise from your laying position and sit down with great difficulty as your whole body seems to wake up and pain starts to kick in again, reminding you not to push your body too much today or even ask too much of it.

_new day, new bullet in your body, y'know, the usual... get this shit out of there, seriously, it's gonna get infected. it's a fucking miracle you woke up this morning so don't go and play with fire any more than you already do._

You reach behind your body to take a look at the fresh bullet wound and it doesn't look too good. Blood is still oozing out of it and the impact is really deep, the bullet is gonna be a bitch to take out on your own and it sure as shit is gonna hurt like all hell.

Ever since the outbreak; you got stab, shot and got the shit beat out of you more times than you care to count but it doesn't get any less painful or scary to you every single time you get injured. It won't be the first time that you have to pull a bullet out of your body and it scares you because you know just how much it hurts when it's not done precisely, this one is on your side and you're not sure that you'll be able to take it out without shaking or messing up once.

You shake those thoughts off and look around you, trying to get your bearings as you're still really sleepy... and grumpy.

" **N** ow what?" you let out a sigh and start to nervously play with your hands. You feel so vulnerable, you feel gross, you're grossed out by the fact that a man saw your body and commented on it, you feel even more insecure than you normally do and, after what happened, you don't know if you want to keep going or not.

It's really hard for you and you can't just go back to the Sanctuary, you can't go back to _him_ , not after he said, " **T** hey didn't even try." you whisper to yourself, tears filling your eyes, as you recall the previous events, no one tried to prevent Jason from taking you and it hurts you more than you care to admit.

_people ain't shit, they're here when it's easy to be there but when they see that you're slightly different or when shit hits the fan? they run off. you know that._

You're not sure of anything anymore, you're completely lost, you're a mess of emotions and none of them are good but you don't get to dwell on it all as you're literally dragged out of your thoughts when the back door of the car that you've found refuge in swings open and a strong hand drags you out of the vehicle.

" **C** 'mere you lil bitch!"

" **L** et go of me, you stupid prick!"

One of Jason's men apparently decided to track you down and, well, it appears like he's found you as he throws you on the hard ground, making you cry out in pain as the bullet wound as well as your sore ribs hit the ground.

" **Y** ou really thought you could get away after the shit you pulled!? Hell no girly, it don't work like that!"

" **D** oesn't."

_you did not..._

" **W** hat?"

" **I** t  **doesn't** work like that, you illiterated prick." you sass out of anger and frustration.

_well, shit... did you just correct the grammar of a dude that's obviously trying to kill us?_

" **A** re you seriously correcting my motherfucking gra-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence as the blade of your knife goes through his ankle, pushing through the bone and making him lose his balance as he cries out in pain and falls on the ground next to you.

" **I** 'm done with you fuckers!"

You climb on top of him, tightening your grip on your weapon, and you fall out of touch with reality for an instant. You don't have any control over your movements or mind, all you can do watch as your hand keeps on violently bringing the blade of your bloody butterfly knife down on his throat. You're pretty sure the fucker's dead by now but you don't stop to check, you don't stop for a goddamn second.

Your breath is erratic, tears are running down your tired face, your ears are ringing so loudly that you can't hear anything and you can't feel your body anymore yet everything hurts so bad and you're hyper-aware of everything.

"[ **Y** /n], hey!" two strong hands grab your waist to try and push you off of the dead body that you've been stabbing for what feels like hours, you recognize that voice and it angers and upsets you even further when your mind fully processes it.

" **L** et go of me! Let go!" you wiggle in the man's arms, swinging your knife around, hoping the blade will eventually catch on something.

" **I** t's me, baby doll. Shh, it's me, relax." Negan's voice is right in your ear and that's all it takes for you to completely break down, " **I** t's okay, you're okay, baby. Shh, you're safe, I promise." you hide your face in his chest, crying your heart out as he brings your legs up to his waist, carefully lifting you up, " **I** t's okay, I'm here baby girl. M'right here, I got you."

He smells of fresh blood, sweat and leather and your eyes are slowly fluttering shut as your head involuntarily pushes further into his chest. You hate to admit it but you feel safe in his arms, safer than you've ever felt, everything slowly fades to black as the voices around you start the fade away and you're pretty sure that you've heard Connor and Randall's voices before you fell asleep.

 

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A loud scream of pure pain rips through your throat as your eyes pop wide open, your back tries to arches away from the source of its pain but a firm grip keeps you in place, you don't know where you are or what the hell is happening, all you know is that; your body is having none of it.

" **K** eep her still, Paul."

_is that harlan's voice?_

"[ **Y** /n], darling, it's me, Jesus." your squint to try and make out Paul's face but your vision is completely blurred by hot tears, " **Y** ou're at Hilltop, doctor Carson is trying to fix you up but you have to stay still, think you can do that?"

You're confused, you're laying on your left side, your sweater is sightly lifted up, exposing your bullet wound, and you can feel Paul's hands firmly yet gently keeping you from moving around on the medical table you're on.

" **A** lright, [y/n], it's gonna hurt real bad for a quick minute and I'm truly sorry but it's important that you stay still so that I don't hurt you any more, alright?" you hear doctor Carson say and even though you can't really see him, you can tell that he truly is concerned.

You just nod your head quickly, harshly biting down on your lip and clenching your eyes shut as you feel Jesus' hands getting on each side of the wound on the right side of your back to spread it open. You feel like screaming 'til your lungs start bleeding, the stretch hurts so bad, you let out a choked sob as you feel a surgical tool diving into the wide open wound to go and get the bullet out.

" **F** uck- wait! Paul- It hurts!" you cry out, your body twitching and naturally trying to get away from the pain.

" **I** know sweetheart, I know." Jesus coos though he doesn't loosen his grip on you, "Hang in there, you're doing amazing, it's almost over, I swear."

You try to take a deep breath but you're shaking like crazy and it feels like your throat is completely closed, keeping you from breathing properly. Before you can fight against it, your body shuts itself down, the pain being too strong for it to handle any more, everything gets back to being dark as one last shaky sob comes out of your mouth. 

 

**5:15** **PM** **//**

Your eyes flutter open and a small yawn comes out of your mouth, your body is so sore it feels like you've been ran over by three trucks... and an elephant.

" **H** ey there, welcome back." you hear Jesus' soft voice right next to you and you feel like crying, you don't know if it's because you're happy and relieved to hear his voice or if it's because you feel horrible for leaving him to deal with Negan when you first ran away.

" **I** -I'm sorry Jesus- I'm s-so sorry." you choke out, tears filling your eyes again.

" **S** orry? What on Earth do you have to apologize for?" he asks before getting out of his chair and walking up to you, concern washing over his features.

Slowly, you push yourself off of your stomach and carefully turn your body around to sit down on the bed you've been put in, Jesus helping you through it, and you take a look around the room once you've settled against the pillows behind your back. You let out a small laugh when you realize that you're in the room that you were in the first time you came to Hilltop, Jesus seems to understand the source of your amusement and lets out a chuckle.

" **S** eems like every time you wake up in this bed, you're seriously injured and lost." he softly teases before sitting on the border of the mattress, his eyes scanning your face as you look everywhere but directly at him with wide, shiny eyes.

" **Y** eah," you let out a nervous laugh, "my whole body hurts."

" **W** hat the hell happened, [y/n]? Your arm-" he starts, looking down at your now heavily stitched forearm.

" **I** \- I don't want t-to talk about it... Please." you whisper, looking down at your stitched-up cuts, your skin swollen and stained with blood though most of it was clearly washed off when the doc patched you up.

" **A** lright," he lets out a small sigh, "what about that bullet wound?" he examines your face and sees your [y/e/c] eyes drowning in tears, "[Y/n], you have three broken ribs, do you know what kind of force it takes to break bones? A whole lot. You have hand prints all over your body too, wh-"

He stops talking when you let out a sob, tears running down your face as your body shakes with sheer panic, pain and sadness. You don't want to talk about what happened, you can't. You don't want to remember it.

You slightly jump when you feel his hand touching yours and quickly hide your hand away from his, your sobs getting even more violent. You don't mean to be rude but you don't have any control over your body's reactions, you don't want to be touched right now, not by anyone.

" **I** -I'm s-sorry."

" **D** on't be, it's okay, [y/n]. Do you want to be alone? It's okay if you do, I'd understand."

" **N** o, p-please, don't leave me alone." you answer in a pleading tone you didn't know you had in you.

" **A** lright, I'm not going anywhere, I promise." he says reassuringly, giving you a warm smile. 

You can't help but to think about Negan at this instant, you wonder where he is, " **P** -Paul?"

" **Y** es, sweetheart?"

" **W** -where's... Where's N-Negan?"

" **H** e said he had some stuff to finish... Don't know what though. But he said he'll come get you at, well, in fifteen minutes actually." he smiles and gestures the watch covering your right wrist with a nod of his head, " **N** ice watch." he says with a teasing smile.

" **O** h," you take a look at it, it's a little bloody but it's still ticking and showing perfect time and date, "yeah, it's alright, I guess." you teasingly say, you love that watch.

" **A** lright? In this economy? Luxurious more like, young lady."

He actually gets a giggle out of you and that's all he really wanted, to make sure that you're at least a tiny bit happy even if you're in a bad place at the moment.

" **O** h, I got you some fresh clothes, this hoodie of yours is all bloody and crap."

" **J** esus, I can't just walk away with your clothes every single time I come here."

" **I** s that a challenge?" he says, raising an eyebrow and getting up from the mattress to walk towards the small dresser in the corner of the room and grabs a piece of clothing before walking back to you, " **T** his isn't mine though, it's Negan's, he left it here when he dropped you off."

Jesus puts the white t-shirt on the blanket covering your lower body before smiling at you and tells you that he'll be back when Negan'll be here before leaving the room to let you change.

_he left one of his t-shirts for me to wear?_

You feel your cheeks turning a bright red at the attention but quickly get slapped back down to Earth when his words come ringing through your head. It seriously hurts more than broken ribs and a bullet wound, it truly does.

_stop dwelling on it, [y/n]. he's not, so why should you?_

You grab the shirt and slowly get out from under the thick blanket you feel asleep under and let out a groan of pain when your feet touch the ground.

You've always had an hypersensitive body, ever since you were a little girl, someone can accidentally graze your skin in the slightest of ways and you'd feel it as if that person just full on grabbed you and you sure are paying the price for that sensitivity right now. Your whole body is throbbing in pain, your ribs are killing you, it's really hard for you to breath and it feels like someone is pressing down on your chest every time you try to inhale.

You let out a cry of frustration when you realize that you can't even take a small step without your body begging for you to stop, there's tears running down your face again and you're a mess of emotions; you're sad, angry, frustrated, you feel ashamed, you feel so small and helpless that it physically hurts you.

You're the kind of girl that always " _I can do it on my own_ " her way out of situations, you could have both your arms and legs in a cast you'd still freak out if someone tried to help you out and insist that you can do it your own with no problem at all. You're like Negan in a lot of ways but you both have **very** different ways to let deal with things and to express yourselves, that's what truly makes the two of you so different.

The door of the room slowly opens and you're about to freak out, you don't want anyone to see you like this, not being able to even take a simple single step without crying out in pain.

" **Y** ou're not supposed to be out of bed." you hear Negan's voice echoing through the small, quiet room and you push your head even further down, finding the floor beneath you to be of great interest all of the sudden.

_floors are fucking fascinating- what?_

" **Y** eah, well- I am." you whisper though that's not how you wanted the words to come out.

You're not sure if you want to punch him in the dick or hug him right now. You're mad at him, beyond mad, but you also crave him really badly.

_meh, could do both, punch the bitch in the dick and then hug him... real tight... 'till he dies... yeah..._

You watch him move through your eyelashes and see him carefully putting Lucille against a wall, the bat is dripping blood, there's bits of flesh on it too, and you feel a shudder going down your spine but you're not sure if it's all just fear.

He takes a step in your direction to come up to you but you take one back and miserably fall on the ground, sobbing and letting a quiet cry out frustration through your throat, " **D** on't!" you beg when you spot him moving towards you, " **D** -don't to-touch me, I-I don't n-need you."

_okay, might be a lie... touch me, fucking throw me around the damn room, I don't fucking care, just help me the fuck up._

" **D** oll, c'mon, don't be-"

" **I** -I'm not your d-doll," you look up at him from the ground, tears rolling down your face, your nose is running and your cheeks are red and puffy, " **I** -I'm just- How'd you p-put it? A fucking c-charity case, a-a poor abused o-orphan that n-needs to get ov-over it." you try and get back up on your feet but you just keep on falling back down.

Your body can't support you anymore, you're exhausted both physically and mentally, you stop fighting and let yourself fall completely on the ground, putting your face against the rough carpet covering the floor you're on, sobs are leaving your mouth as your body shakes along with them only making the pain stronger.

You hear the door slam shut, making you jump, and a fresh wave of sobs rips through you. He just fucking walked away, he didn't even say as much as a sorry, not that you actually expected him to... But if you didn't expect him to, then, why does the fact that he actually didn't hurts you so bad?

The door creaks open again and you're about to lose your damn mind but quickly calm down when you hear Connor's voice, "[ **Y** /n], what the hell-" he stops when he spots you laying on the floor and rushes towards you, kneeling down next to you, " **H** ey, you're not supposed to move all by yourself, here let me-" he reaches out for you to help you back up but quickly stops when you try to get away from him with tears flowing out of your eyes like a broken focet.

" **N** o, no, no, no, no! P-please, don't. D-don't touch me, p-please- don't."

He furrows his eyebrows as the worst case scenarios start to play in his mind, he doesn't even realize just how right his "suspicions" are, " **O** -okay- Okay, I'm sorry- Sorry... What about Faith? Would you let Faith help you?"

You slowly nod your head and keep on mumbling apologizes. You feel horrible, Connor truly cares about you, you know that, but you can't- You just can't.

" **A** lright, I'm gonna go get her."

" **I** 'm s-so so-sorry, Connor."

" **H** ey, no, don't be. I just want you to be alright, beautiful. Don't you worry about a thing, I'mma go get Faith."

He runs off and leaves you here, on the floor, as he goes to get Faith. 

_faith and connor are here, who else is there? why are they even here?_

In a matter of seconds, she's softly knocking on the door and coming in, closing the door behind her, " **O** h, baby girl, what d'you do."

She quickly gets to you and grabs your body as carefully as possible and she actually manages to avoid hurting you. Gently, she sits you back down on the mattress and pushes your hair out of your face, smiling at you, " **Y** ou scared the shit outta me, pretty girl." she looks at you, relieved to see that you're right here and not out there instead, " **H** ow 'bout a warm shower? How's that sound?"

" **G** -good." you try to give her a smile but fail miserably, you're too tired to even fake a smile.

She gently rubs your cheek with her thumb and gives you a reassuring smile before carefully lifting you up. Holding you against her body, she makes sure you're secure in her hold before she starts to walk to two of you to the bathroom, closing the door behind her before sitting you on top of the sink.

" **A** lright, I, young lady, am a professional nursing machine so, be ready to get taken care of."

" **I** -I think I c-can sh-shower by myself, Faith." you say, looking down, your cheeks red.

" **G** irl, c'mon, you can't even walk." she teasingly raises her eyebrow and gives you a genuinely concerned look, " **H** ey, look, I've seen some shit when I used to nurse back in the day, I've washed really old people and let me tell you that they do not give a shit, they'll fucking piss on you if they need to go while you're cleaning them-" she stops when she hears a giggle coming out of your mouth, " **O** h yeah, okay, I see how it is. Mama Faith getting pissed on by old people is funny to you, uh?" she laughs, her smile only widening as she takes you in.

" **I** 'm sorry." you manage to say through your fit of giggles.

" **D** on't be, boo. It's amazing to hear you laugh like that, totally worth gettin' peed on." you shake your head and look up at her with a small smile, " **A** lright, now, if you don't feel comfortable being naked around me, I get it, just tell me and I'll turn around. Hell, I can even take my clothes off if you want so we're even... Except for the underwear, I'm keeping those, I love you but, fuck you, it's too fucking cold in here for me to be butt naked."

" **I** -it's okay, you c-can keep your c-clothes on."

She carefully lets you down from the sink you're sitting on and helps you strip out of your jeans and hoodie, your cheeks reddening as tears make their come back, completely blurring your vision.

" **H** ey, [y/n], look at me." Faith softly demands before gently grabbing your face to bring it back up, " **I** f anything, I should be the one crying right now, not you. You're so beautiful, kinda makes me mad to be honest. You're lucky that I'm a grown ass woman and that I'm over being a mean, jealous, bitch."

You let out a shy laugh and nod your head, not wanting to tell her that your tears have nothing to do with being shy or insecure. After pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, she goes to get the shower running and walks you behind a wooden curtain for you to strip out of your underwear.

As you do so, memories of the day before come running back, the way Jason touched you, spoke to you and looked at you. You remember every single little detail and, looking down at your bare body, your realize just how right Jesus was; you are covered in hand prints and the sight of them makes you want to cry and throw up right there and then but you keep it to yourself, not wanting to alert Faith.

With an heavy sigh, you wrap a towel around your bare body and shyly call out to let Faith know that you're covered.

Carefully, she walks you towards the running shower and flashes you a smile before opening the door of the shower cabin for you to get under the water and you don't need to be told twice. You step inside the cabin and throw the towel covering your body over the glass protecting you from Faith's eyes before stepping right under the shower head, letting out a deep sigh when the warm water hits your sore and aching body in the most delicious way possible.

As you're letting the dry blood getting washed away by the hot water, Faith starts to make conversation to keep the two of you busy and it quickly turns into something more than just a simple chit chat, " **H** ell, I ain't never seen Negan that angry and worried about someone... Known him for six years."

" **S** -six years?" you curiously ask under the spray, your interest picked.

" **Y** eah, we uh- We used to teach in the same school." she says with a smile.

" **W** ait- Wha- I- Negan used to- What?"

" **Y** eah," she laughs at your confusion, "he used to be a coach. Lemme tell you, ain't no kid ever talked back to him, his mere presence was enough to make 'em fall in line. He was really cool, though- Yeah... Shit changed, I guess."

You let a small moment pass as pure disbelieve has your brain working overtime. He used to work with kids? Negan? With kids?

_okay, you bumped your head and now we're dead and we ended up in a weird ass word where everything is weird..._

" **W** hat di-did you teach?" you ask, trying hard not to picture Negan around kids which turns out to be harder than you could have ever imagined.

" **I** was a science teacher, was a substitute for French classes as well. I used to be a part-time nurse too... Y'know, that's when I got pissed on."

It always amazes you to learn about people's past, there's always that one person that surprises you and, boy, Faith is definitely it, " **W** ow- Th-that's super impressive."

" **H** ow 'bout you, princess? What'd you used to do?" she asks with a smile on her face, happy that you two finally got the chance to have a real conversation.

" **I** \- uh. Just- Y'know, studies."

She can tell that you don't want to talk about it so she leaves you alone and patiently waits for you to finish your shower while making stupid jokes,enjoying the small giggles she gets out of you every now and then.

 

**6:30** **PM** **//**

Faith just left your room and went back outside, she said that Negan wanted her to tell him how you were doing, she also told you that he actually sent Connor in after he left, just to make sure that you were taken care of.

You're sitting on the mattress where she left you, kicking your feet around as you patiently and nervously wait for Negan to come and get you to bring you back at the Sanctuary like she said he would.

_yay... how're the legs? you sure you can't run?_

You let out a small sigh, the shower helped a whole lot, your body is clean and hurts a little bit less but you're still really sore and you still can't take a full step without crying out in pain.

You feel so small and the fact that you are wearing one of Negan's t-shirt doesn't really help, that thing is way too big for you, it reaches right above of your knees, completely covering your thighs. You slowly lift the piece of clothing off of your thighs and take a long look at them. 

You have really pretty legs, your thighs are chubby, you don't really have a thigh gape and you used to love it when Luna was still around but now that she's gone, you don't see yourself in the same light anymore. She's the one who taught you how to love yourself, she's spent most of her time telling you how pretty you were, she loved your natural beauty but you never saw it, you still don't.

Unconsciously, you start to grab the meaty flesh of your thighs, pulling on whatever you can grab and scratching your nails on the soft, smooth skin covering them, tears blurring your vision.

The door of the small room you're in opens and you immediately cover your thighs back up and look up at the door just to see Negan, Lucille on his shoulder, with a cocky smirk on his face, starring straight back at you.

_look at that handsome, stupid asshole..._

You have to admit that you kind of envy him sometimes. He always seems to find a way to act as if nothing bad ever happens, as if he isn't guilty of anything, as if he's a real angel, like he can never od no wrong and you wish you could do that too, sometimes.

He walks over to you in his "ever so casual" fashion and carelessly lift you up to bring your body flush against his. You're not wearing any pants since Faith told you that she'll help you out with them before he'd come to pick you up but there clearly was a change of plan, and you can feel the cold leather of his jacket rubbing against your inner thighs, making you blush furiously.

You hate the effect that he has on you just like he hates the things that you force him to feel.

" **R** eady to go home, baby girl?" he asks with that cocky smirk of his glued to his lips, clearly not taking no for an answer, .

_where even is home, anyway?_

You simply nod and nervously wiggle around in his hold. You're not comfortable with him touching you like that, especially not when you don't have any pants or bra on.

" **Y** 'know, I seriously am starting to love seeing you in my clothes, darlin'." he says before kissing your forehead, making your whole body twitch.

He carefully walks the two of you out of the room, immediately heading for his truck. It's cold out and your cheeks redden when the ice-cold wind reminds you of just how exposed to just about everyone walking by you are right now.

You spot Jesus from afar and you want to say goodbye to him, you want to hug him and tell him just how thankful you are that you've met him but you can't, you're stuck in Negan's strong grip, all you can do is wave back at him when he flashes you an apologetic smile and waves you goodbye.

 

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**FLASHBACK** **//** **JASON'S COMPOUND** **// THE DAY BEFORE //**

Negan's hands are tightly wrapped around the wheel, his knuckles white and Lucille right beside him. All the trucks have come to a stop a few meters away from the gate which his girl is trapped behind. Grabbing his bat, he angrily opens the door of his truck and jumps down, his feet firmly hitting the ground and all his men bring their attention to him at the sound of his boots making contact with the concrete road.

" **D** wight, take some of your men, I want you to find and bring every single one of these sorry fucks to Simon, Arat and Faith. I want you guys to get those fuckers in line and keep an eye on 'em. Randy boy, Connor and I are gonna go get [y/n]. We'll fucking tear this fucking place up if we need to but we're not going back home without her, we clear?"

They all answer with a simple "Yes, boss." before making their way to the big steel gate and forcing it open, their weapons loaded and ready to fire. They're greeted with guns to the face but Negan, as usual, shrugs it off and smiles, showing off his pearly whites.

" **W** hy, hello there! I believe you fuckers have something of mine and, oh boy, am I pissed!"

They all look confused for a second but they're quick to understand what Negan is talking about, _who_ he's talking about.

" **Y** eah, that lil bitch ran off, killed five of our men, too! She better be fucking dead 'cause if she ain't, we sure as shit are gonna change that."

Negan can feel his blood boiling, he's not okay with people threatening his baby, he's just not.

He realizes now that those men, the way they're talking about you? The way Negan sees seem? That's exactly what you must see him as and it angers him, he's not sure if he's pissed at himself or you. Actually, yes, he is, he's just not used to face the consequences of his stupid attitude and reckless actions. He said much worse to you, much, much worse.

Faith seems to notice that he's struggling to get it together so she takes the reins for him and orders her men to put the armed men line before reminding everyone to do as Negan told them to and, just like that, they all fall into place. Randall and Connor are right behind Negan, looking at each other, unsure of what to say or do.

" **A** lright! C'mon, let's go get my lil' princess back." Negan says with a cocky smile as if the little moment of absence he just had didn't happen.

" **L** et's." Connor says, walking up to Negan's side, Randall doing the same.

They head into the small community, paying no mind to Faith, Simon and Arat as they force men on their knees in front of them, taking their weapons away.

"[ **Y** /n] did that?" Randall says with wide eyes as he spots a dead body lying on the floor, the blood soaking it still fresh, they can smell it from where they stand.

Negan decides to get closer to take a good look at it. It's a man, shot right between the eyes and he nervously scratches his beard while looking at it. You've never been one for guns, that much he knows and that actually something he finds to be hot as hell too.

He's about to say something but gets distracted when he spots some more blood on the ground, a huge puddle of it peaking out from behind a thick white, brick wall. He signals for Connor and Randall to come with him and, as they get around the wall, their eyes widen when they spot two other bodies, both have a really wide cut going straight through their jugular vein, blood still oozing out of both of them.

Negan immediately recalls something you told him the first time you officially met him "[...] _ **I** could kill you right now if I wanted to, all I 'd have to do is sink my teeth into your jugular vein and you'd bleed out in a matter of a few seconds, Negan_." He smiles at the memory of that day and looks down at Lucille, a smirk forming on his lips as he recalls the way he's introduced you to her.

" **Y** eah... That's my girl alright." he says with a smirk.

" **S** o... What? She got out?" Connor asks, clearly frustrated.

" **F** 'course she fucking did." Randall snaps, " **W** hat? You really thought that she was going to wait around for salvation? Come the fuck on! S'like you said, man. No one did shit to keep this whole thing from happening in the first place, for all she knows, we clearly don't give a fuck about her. You should know better than to expect her to just sit around."

Of course you didn't wait around, you were right not to. He's right, to you it's clear that they weren't about to help out so you took the matters in your own hands and, damn it if you didn't make it out.

Negan shoots Randall a cold glare. He knows his words were directed to him and it does nothing to appease him. He's mad, he feels like he's about to go fucking mental because, yeah, he actually **di** d expect you to stick around for him to come get you and save the day but you didn't give him that satisfaction and he hates it but also loves it. He's proud of you but, damn, is he pissed.

He swings Lucille off of his shoulder and tightens his grip on her before walking towards the knelled people waiting for whatever is supposed to happen, to happen and he's about to relieve the suspense.

He gets right in front of them, taking a few steps back to look at all of them, there's women in the line up as well. He goes and kneels in front of one of them and smiles at her.

" **H** ey there, today's your lucky day, honey. See, lucky for you, I don't kill women," he pauses, slightly turns around and points at Faith and Arat with Lucille, a devilish smile on his face, " **B** ut these girls? Well, they really like the lil' girl that your pimp took away from me... And they don't like when you take what they're attached to." he looks at the woman's face and see tears in her eyes, " **A** w, man... Sadly for you, luck tends to run out pretty damn fast nowadays... Yeah, see these ladies? They're not as kind as I am, they don't give a fuck actually, male or female, they'll beat the holy livin' shit out of you." he's about to get back up but Jason's words come back to him and he feels the need to make one thing clear, " **Y** ou girls are okay with being his and shit? Or did he force you into it?"

" **W** -what? No, we're not his... We all can be with whoever we want, it's just... W-well, being with him is way more rewarding, so yeah, we're all okay with it." she says with a tone that tends to annoy the shit out of Negan really quickly.

He gets back up and turns around when he hears " **S** _ounds familiar_." coming out of Faith's mouth, she doesn't even try to hide from it when he glares at her. She said what she said and, fuck yes, she meant it.

He lets out a deep laugh, his eyes slightly darker from all of his built up anger, and shake his head before swiftly swinging Lucille around, bringing her down on a random man's head.

" **Y** ou all need to fucking learn something! You.Don't.Fucking.Take.From.Me!" he says, bringing his bat down between each words, anger taking over him.

He turns back around and simply nods to his men, giving them the signal to finish what he just started, Arat and Faith going for the women in the line up.

Negan grabs Randall and Connor and pushes them towards the open gate, a few walkers got curious of all the noise but he pays no mind to them and keeps dragging the boys along with him.

" **S** he can't be that fucking far, we're gonna fucking find her and bring her the fuck back home." he barks through gritted teeth.

 

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**8:00** **PM** **//**

Here you are, back "home", in "your" bedroom, sitting down on "your" bed. You let out a small, shaky sigh and wipe the tears off your face as you try and process everything that's happened these past twenty-four hours.

It all seems so unreal to you, how could this happen? Why are you back here again? You have so many questions going through your head, you feel like it's about to drive you insane.

The whole drive back was just Negan trying to get you to relax, he even cracked a few really stupid jokes and it only angered you further because, while he's here making jokes, going around with that stupid cocky attitude of his, you're here; completely hollow, drowning in your own tears, constantly fighting off the urge to hurt yourself and it's all because of him. Sure the previous events added to it but you wouldn't be that fucked up if it wasn't for him. Hell, none of that would have happen if it wasn't for him.

You furrow your eyebrows and slowly look up as pretty white lights caught your attention. You rub your eyes thinking that it's only your fatigue playing tricks on you but you quickly realize that there actually is a bunch of really pretty and soft white fairy lights hanging on the walls of your rooms. You were so upset when you got thrown back in this room that you didn't even bother to look around you.

You slowly get up and walk towards them, you love fairy lights, you always wanted some in your bedroom but your mom never wanted to spend money on you and you never had enough to afford some, at least, not if you wanted to eat.

You're feeling so many things at the same time, you can't handle it, it's just all so overwhelming. There's only two things to get you to stop thinking when you're in this state; self-harm or, well, alcohol.

As you grew older you started to understand why your mom got so addicted to it after your father passed. Everything just goes completely numb when you're drunk, you don't really feel anything any more. Hell, your own mom got you hooked on that poison, how fucked up is that? While the simple sight of a bottle of alcohol usually makes you sick to your stomach, when you're in this state, it seems to help out a whole lot.

 

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Negan is walking around the workers' quarters, making sure that everything is going smoothly but he's lost in his thoughts. You're all he has in his mind, he keeps on wondering why he didn't just suck it up and apologize earlier on today, he's angry about leaving you all alone on that floor back at Hilltop and he keeps on remembering the way your voice was shaking when you spat his own words back at him, he hated everything second of it.

" **B** oss, you're there?" Simon's voice rings through Negan's radio, snapping him out of his thoughts.

" **Y** eah, what is it?"

" **W** ell, we couldn't find [y/n] in her room so we swept the whole compound and, well, Connor found her in the common room. She broke into the mini bar and she seems to be completely drunk off her ass. He didn't say anything to her, she didn't even see him but, maybe, it'll be good to have someone talk to her?"

" **F** uckin' hell." he grits out before grabbing his radio to answer Simon, " **Y** eah, yeah, I got it. Make sure everyone is in their room and you can call it a night."

" **A** lright, boss."

Negan runs up the stairs leading to the first floor where the break room is and he barely takes a step in when he can almost taste alcohol in the air. He slowly makes his way toward the opened door of the big room and he leans against the door frame, silently watching you with a small smile.

Here you are, sitting on the pool table, looking down at your dangling feet as you swing them around, bottle of Jack in hand. His smirk turns into a boyish grin when he sees that you haven't changed and are still only wearing his shirt, your black boyshorts and a pair of fuzzy white socks.

" **Y** ou really are gonna give me hell, aren't ya, angel face?" he says with a smile, making you jump slightly.

" **Y** ou're one to talk, Negan." you silently thank the alcohol for giving you enough confidence to make a sentence without stuttering like a child.

He lets out a chuckle and pushes himself off of the door way before walking directly towards you just to lean against the couch sitting in front of the pool table. Slowly, he sits on top of it whilst keeping eye contact with you, the braces of his boots clicking when he crosses his legs.

" **I** thought I told you not to fucking touch your arm again, doll." he finally says after eyeing you for what felt like endless minutes.

" **A** nd I told you, I am not your doll." you mumble, your head lolling around, seeming heavier to you now that you're under the influence of alcohol.

" **A** lright then... Baby girl it is." he teases with a taunting smile, you don't know what he's trying to accomplish here but if he wanted to make you blow a fuse, he succeeded.

" **Y** 'know what?" you clumsily jump off of the pool table, luckily, the alcohol completely numbed your wounds so you don't feel as much pain as before when your feet touch the ground, " **I** 'm so done with you, Negan! I don't understand you! You hurt me so bad, you treat me like crap and then you're back to being all cocky and whatnot! What are you doing to me?!" sobs start to rip through you again and, before you can't stop yourself, you start hitting Negan's chest with clenched fists, you're not hurting him though, you're aware of that and it pisses you off.

" **H** ey, shh, calm down, baby girl." he grabs your hands to keep you from hitting him and pushes you against the nearest wall before grabbing your face with his free hand, forcing you to look at him, "[ **Y** /n], baby, I'm so fucking sorry." your breath catches in your throat and your eyes slightly widen at his words, did Negan just apologized to you? " **I** 'm so, so fucking sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I took it way too fucking far. I fucked up, baby doll."

His right thumb gently rubs the soft skin of your left cheek, wiping away a few tears as his left hand slowly lets go of your hands and carefully joins his right hand on your face, he lets it rest right below your jaw as his thumb comes to caress the smooth skin on your right cheekbone, your eyes close on their own and you let yourself relax a small bit under his ministrations.

" **D** id he touch you, baby? Did that fucker put his goddamn hands on you?" his voice is low and scruffy as he speaks straight into your right ear.

" **I** \- He- I-I'm sorry." your eyes flutter open and you try real hard to keep eye contact with him but it proves to be more difficult than you anticipated, even with alcohol filling your veins.

" **D** id he? Did he fucking touch my baby? Is that why you don't want to let anyone touch you, angel?" you can't look at him anymore, you're starting to get tense again and tears are blurring your vision as a choked sob comes out of your mouth before you can't even try to keep it from getting out. You feel Negan tensing against you, " **Y** ou think I'm mad at you? That it? You think I'm mad at you 'cause some prick forced himself on you? Is that it, baby doll?" he asks, his soft rough but still oddly soft in its own way.

" **Y** -yes."

" **W** hy the fuck would I be mad at you? It ain't your fault, you hear me?" he says, forcing you to look back up at him.

" **I** -" you move your eyes around, looking at everything but him, since you can't move your head, "I just- I d-don't want a-anyone bu-but you t-to touch me a-and I th-thought that y-you'll be mad at me i-if he t-took my vi-virginity and n-not you." your cheeks are on fire at this point, tears are running all over your face and your nose is running like nobody's business.

" **Y** ou want me to be the one, baby girl?" he asks with a smirk though his eyes are still soft on you, his lips now brushing against yours.

" **I** \- I dunno... Y-you're the only man that ever t-touched me."

You never thought about it any other way, he was the first man to ever touch you, at least with your consent, he was your very first kiss so, to you, it just made sense that he was gonna be the one to take your virginity as well. You don't know why though, it just seems logical to you.

" **D** 'you kill that fucker, baby?"

" **Y** -yes."

" **A** tta girl." he says with a smile before, finally, crushing his lips against yours. Slightly tightening his grip on your face to bring you closer to him, he doesn't let you overthink it and you don't, you actually immediately kiss him back to his surprise.

You missed his touch, you missed his lips, you missed his cocky attitude, you just missed him as a whole, no matter how badly he's hurt you.

" **Y** ou scared the fuck out of me." he breaks the kiss to whisper against your lips, " **I** went looking for you and you weren't there, you didn't wait for daddy to come get you and I was so pissed off, but, damn am I proud of you. You scared me shitless though, [y/n]. You're my little baby and I don't ever want my baby to be in danger. Ever." he barely finishes his sentence when his lips directly go back to yours and you simply nod your head to let him know that you've heard him loud and clear.

Neither of you is slowing the pace down, you just keep at it, you both are clearly craving one another and neither of you is willing to let the other go any time soon. You're completely out of breath, your lungs are burning up, but you don't care, you just don't.

You can't bring yourself to care about your body's primary needs when he's kissing you like his life depends on it, not when he lifts you up and your legs snake around his waist all on their own accrod, not when his hands grab two handfuls of your butt and certainly not after a whine escapes your mouth, making Negan smile and grunt into the kiss.

" **F** ucking fuck, darlin'." he tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear before looking straight into your eyes, " **I** fucking care about you, way too fucking much for my liking. I know I fucked up a lot with you but, goddamn, do I fucking care about you, angel. I'm just not used to this shit, been a long time since I last gave a shit about someone so I can't tell you that from now on it's gonna be roses and chocolates but- damn- I really want to change shit for you, and only for you."

" **N** egan- I... I'm sorry but I don't know if I can actually believe y-you on that one." you say, trying to look down but his hands keep you from doing so.

" **T** ell me what I've gotta do for you to be happy, baby doll." he asks you with a smile on his face. He already knows what he needs to do but, of course, he wants to hear you say it.

" **I** \- I wanna be yours." you whisper with burning cheeks, your whole body shaking. You seriously did not except that to come out of your mouth, at all, " **B** ut- N-not with t-them a-around." you stumble to add, referring to his "wives".

He's truly surprised by your confession. He already knew that, at some point, he'll get rid of these women but he never thought that you'll actually be okay with being his if he did. He honestly just thought that it'll make it easier for you two to work things out.

" **B** aby, how drunk are you?" he says with a small laugh, he doesn't want what you've just said to be the result of one too many drink but he still has to make sure.

" **D** runk e-enough to have the courage to say this to you b-but not d-drunk enough to re-regret it tomorrow morning." you admit, shyly looking up at him.

" **H** ow 'bout that, I'm gonna bring you back to your room, you're gonna get some sleep, rest up and tomorrow morning, I'll come pay you a lil' visit and we'll talk, yeah?"

" **Y** -yes, okay." you keep your voice down and nod, feeling your eyes flutter shut with exhaustion as you're about ready to call it a day.

" **A** lright, princess. Bedtime." tightening his hold around your body a small bit to make sure you're secure in his arms, he puts an oddly gentle kiss on your lips and carries you out of the room, walking the two of you to your room. Your head is hidden in the crook of his neck, moving with every step Negan takes, his beard slightly tickling you and he teasingly keeps on squeezing your butt cheeks in his hands, a chuckle coming out of his mouth every time he makes you squeal.

Much too soon for his liking, he reaches your room and carefully opens the door not to make any noise to wake anyone up. Gently, he closes the door behind him, push the bed sheets out of the way and softly lays you down on the mattress to let you crawl under the warm, thick blankets.

" **H** ow many blankets you got there, baby?" he asks with a chuckles as he tries and count them.

You giggle shyly and nuzzle your face into your pillow, " **T** hree."

" **W** ell, I'd say you're about ready to hibernate, uh?" he teases, grinning when you giggle into your pillow before peaking your head out to look up at him, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. With a content sigh, he kneels down to face you and bring his hand beneath your blankets to caress your left cheek, " **S** leep tight, baby girl."

" **N** ight, Negan."

He bends down a small bit and steals one last kiss before walking out of the room with a smirk on his face. Walking down the corridor to walk back to his quarter, he whistles as he goes, not really caring about the sleeping folks anymore. Frankly, he doesn't give a damn about a whole lot right now. Your words just keep on echoing through his head; " _ **I** wanna be yours_.", that's all he ever really wanted to hear from you, and now that he finally did, it's playing in his head like the best kind of broken record.

As for you, you're already deep asleep but you fell asleep excited like a child, you know that Negan is nothing easy to deal with but you can't help the way you feel about him. You can't control it, it's completely out of your hands and, for once in your life, you don't actually mind.

Tomorrow is another day but, as of right now, you don't know just how life changing _this_ tomorrow is gonna be for both you and Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, baby cakes! I hope you're all doing alright and that 2017 is treating you well so far!  
> Like I said at the beginning, I'm really sorry for the wait, writer blocks are the worst things in the world, who came up with this evil mechanism anyways?  
> Moving on! I hope you liked the chapter because I'm not sure how I feel about it to be perfectly honest. There's a lot to come in the next one and there'll be smut in it, so, yay? maybe? I dunno? what?  
> But, yeah, as always, I have proofread and checked a hundred times but, hey, it's me we're talking about here. Anxiety? Check! Blind Panic? Cheeeeeck!
> 
> I love you, stay safe. *smooches on your face*
> 
> PS: I'm on Tumblr too if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I'll be more than happy to be there for you. http://drickisdaughter.tumblr.com/


	10. Fire In Her Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter;  
> emotions,  
> tears,  
> friendships,  
> stargazing,  
> some really, really, fucking kinky spanking  
> the constant use of the word "daddy" and a shameless, dirty as shit, handjob... for science... I love science, it's great.

**FLASHBACK** **//**   **14 y/o OFC** **//**   **A** **Y EAR** **BEFORE THE OUTBREAK;**

" **I** gave you my hand and you just slapped it away, Luna!"

" **O** f course I did, [y/n]," your long time friend answers with a calmness that does nothing but set your nerves ablaze, "if I'd have taken the hand you were handing out to me, how on Earth would you have been able to hold yourself up, honey?"

You can't believe what's happening, you thought that you'll be ready for this moment but, turns out, you're not at all. Your best friend, the only person that still gives a shit about you, the one person that you always feel safe with no matter what, is about to go and there's nothing you can do about it. You feel like crap.

Ever since she got diagnosed with her leukemia you started to get more and more reckless, you fell into drugs, started to hang around the wrong crowds and got expelled from school for beating the girls who used to bully you on a daily basis up, if you're being honest with yourself, you don't really regret _that_. They did horrible things to you, things that you're not yet ready to talk about.

You know that it's only the false sensation of confidence you got from hanging out with violent groups of people that made you act on their constant bullying and that might be why, deep down, you kind of feel bad about it, because it wasn't all you, but what's done is done and now isn't the time to dwell on it.

Everything changed for the worst after your dad's death, not only did your mother become physically abusive but she also was really manipulative and emotionally abusive too, she kept on beating you up or she'll lock you away in a small, confined closet if you dared to shed a single tear. You couldn't even let it out when she wasn't around because she somehow always ended up knowing about it and she'd get even more violent then.

You haven't shed a single little tear for six years, the only exception being the two tears that escaped you when Luna was diagnosed. Even after your mother died on your twelfth birthday, it became a part of your mechanism to just bottle your emotions up, you rarely let your vulnerability or emotions show, you still feel every single one of them, you just taught yourself how to cover them up, and you're really good at it; faking a smile, forcing a laugh, acting confident when really you have a very fragile self-esteem, always acting like you're ready to fight when really you hate violence. Yeah, it's no wonder you've let one of your so called "friends" drag you into DrugLand with them.

But, the problem with drugs is that; the effects wear off at some point and you're forced back down to that harsh reality of yours, your pain and loneliness come crashing back to you while your "friends" go back home to their family and you know that they'll show up the next morning, bitching about how their parents are monsters because they didn't let them order fucking pizza for breakfast.

Hell, you'd give anything to have your parents around while those idiots are here, complaining about how their parents didn't get them everything they wanted for Christmas.

"[ **Y** /n], darling, it's okay for you to cry, you know that." Luna's soft voice brings your attention back to her.

You keep on avoiding eye contact, you keep on looking down to the white, squeaky floor you're standing on but you know that you're gonna have to face the situation at some point anyway and it most certainly will break your heart but you have to be there for her, that's the least you can do. So, with a deep breath, you slowly look up at her and you feel your throat tightening, your heart skipping a few beats and your vision getting blurry really quickly.

You can't stand the sight of her in an hospital bed, the bed you know she's going to die in, tubs hooked to her arms, chest and nose, the constant beeping of the monitor beside her is reassuring as well as it is a source of pure anxiety for you.

Slowly, you walk towards her and drop on the big puffy hospital chair next to her bed before carefully wrapping your hand around hers.

" **L** ook at you, darling." she gently smiles at you, " **Y** ou've changed so much over the years."

" **Y** eah... Became a huge screw up alright." you say with a sad laugh, trying to keep the tears in your eyes from spilling out.

" **A** screw up?" she slowly rises from her laying position and carefully sits down on her bed, coughing a bit, " **N** ow you listen to me, [y/n]. You did what you could with what you've been given and you didn't get a lot, you've lost so much, you saw both of your parents die right in front of you, no one should have to go through the things that you've been through and I'm scared to even think about the things you aren't telling me about." you clench your free hand into a tight fist, trying really hard to swallow your tears back, "[ **Y** /n], honey, it's okay." she repeats as she spots the tears drowning your pretty eyes usually so full of hope and life.

Her soft voice finally breaks you and you let out a violent sob that rocks your entire upper body as tears finally find their release. It's been so long since you've allowed yourself to cry, hell, you never though it'd ever get to the point where you'd have to "allow" yourself to feel things because you never thought that people could push you into bottling everything up.

It feels so good to finally let go of all those tears, tears you didn't get to cry when your father died, tears you didn't allow yourself to cry when your mom would treat you like crap, tears you didn't dare to let go of when you saw the fire fighters carrying your mother out of your house in a body bag, tears you always swallowed back when you'd get beat up in a corner of your school's bathroom.

Hell, the only time you recall "breaking" your mum's "no crying rule" is when her boyfriend of the week, which she started to make a collection of over the years, was all over you, touching you inappropriately, trying to undress and kiss you but you fought through it and ended up crying which is what alerted your mom. She came running in your bedroom and she didn't say a damn thing about the fact that there was a grown ass man on top of you, shirtless with his pants undone, trying to touch you, oh no, she didn't give a shit, she gave you the blame. She gave your ten years old self the blame for being "under dressed" and she kicked the pig out before beating you up whilst throwing awful words at you and ended up throwing you in your closet, locking you up in it for four days straight.

" **S** he can't hurt you anymore, love." Luna whispers like she can read your thought clear as day, " **S** he can't, I promise." she says whilst gently rubbing your cheek, wiping away a few tears in the process.

" **I** could've helped you... I could've paid for your treatment Luna... I could have." you say barely above a whisper, trying really hard to convince yourself that you actually could have done something to help her.

" **Y** eah? And then what, [y/n]? You would have paid for a treatment that wouldn't have done anything to me because my leukemia was too advanced anyway, I would have died and you would have spent all of your money on me. I wasn't going to allow that to happen, no way."

" **B** -but you're dying- A-and then... Then I'll be all on my own again, Luna."

" **N** ot for long, honey. You'll find a lot of good people to surround yourself with, you'll see. I know it won't be easy because you're hurting really bad as of today but, trust me, someday? Someone is gonna come into your life and turn it all around just... Don't let it be the wrong person, [y/n], because they could also turn your life around for the worst, and I only want the very best for you, understood?"

" **Y** -yes, Luna."

" **A** lright... Alright, good girl." she squeezes your hand and gives you a small, tired smile, " **Y** ou're so beautiful, you're incredibly smart, so smart that it actually scares me sometimes." she pauses and lets out a small laugh, " **Y** ou have the kind of beauty that could change the worst criminal into a real gentleman, you're so, so brave but, honey, I need you to let yourself feel things, there's nothing wrong with the way you feel. Screw what your mother told you, the way you feel is _**valid**_ , _**always, no matter what**_. You want to cry? Cry your little heart out. You want to scream? Scream until your throat is sore and your lungs are burning. You want to be angry? Go ahead, let yourself feel it, my darling, and stop punishing yourself for it. You have the perfect right to have emotions, your very own emotions. You have **nothing** to feel guilty about. The point I'm trying to make here is that; there's nothing shameful about who you are, [y/n]. You're so pure and kind, it scares me sometimes because I know that people tend to feel the need to destroy what's pure and you, honey, are definitely it. You have to stay true to yourself, no matter what. You're so important, you don't deserve to get hurt like you do. You're way too young not to unconditionally love yourself. You deserve the very best, don't you ever settle for less. "

" **I** won't, I p-promise."

" **G** ood, good... I love you." she slowly sinks back down on her mattress to lay down again and closes her eyes, " **M** y brave little princess." she weakly smiles and lets out a small laugh before you feel the grip of her hand loosing around yours, " **H** ey, honey?"

" **Y** -Yeah?"

" **S** ay hi to the Dixon boys for me, will ya?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a shaky breath, a sad, teary smile on your face as you frantically nod, " **Y** -Yeah, of course."

With a small smile, she weakly squeezes your hand in hers, " **A** lright, darling. I just- just need to rest, just- I love you, always." she mumbles and you choke on your words when the monitor keeping track of her heartbeat shows a flat line on its screen and starts making a loud, continuous, obnoxiously high-pitched sound but it's like you're slowly going deaf, the noises around you only coming out as echoes in your ears as nurses fill the room, unplugging the monitor and you vaguely hear one of them trying to comfort you but you just let your head fall, your forehead resting on Luna's waist as tears keep on rolling down your tired face.

" **I** love you too, Luna."

People always say that " _You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone_ " but what are you supposed to feel like when you know exactly what you had, what you've just lost?

 

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**8:00** **AM** **//**

You let out a relieved sigh as you step out of your shower, your bare body only covered by a thin towel as you run down the long corridor to quickly get back to the safety of your own room, earning a laugh from Arat as she spots you running around the place in your baby blue towel and your wet hair.

Randall comes out of his room at the exact same second you reach your door, your cheeks turning a bright pink as he smiles at you, his eyes widening when he spots your lack of clothing.

" **H** -hi Randall."

" **H** ey, boo." he laughs, trying not to make the situation unnecessarily awkward.

" **I** uh- I'mma go get dressed... Catch you for breakfast?" you shyly ask, afraid that you might come out as clingy, looking down and nervously twisting a piece of hair around one of your fingers.

" **F** 'course, princess." he gives you a genuine smile and you look up at him, noticing for the very first time that one of his eyes isn't a pretty clear blue, his left eye seems to be more of a pretty grey-ish color which completely captures your attention, in fact, it captures it so much that you don't even realize that; not only are you staring but you've also been pushing the door of your room the wrong way for a good solid minute now, making Randall laughs.

" **T** ry pushing it, sweet pea." he says with a teasing smile.

" **W** ha- Oh, shoot- Y-yeah," you let out a really nervous laugh, cursing yourself when you realize how awkward you were being just now, and push the door open before quickly waving at the blonde man and rushing inside your room. The second the door closing behind you, you push your back against it as if to keep all the awkwardness out of your room.

_you're the awkwardness person in the fucking universe..._

You seriously consider moving underground for a good second before refocusing on getting dressed quickly, it's really cold today.

You make your way to your dresser, pulling a simple black t-shirt and Jesus' jeans out of it, a set of underwear and a pair of white socks with black dots on them. As you get dressed, you take a quick look at your body, it's not healed, far from it actually, but at least it doesn't hurt so bad anymore. You can walk and run a small bit, not fast but it's better than not being able to move at all. Your forearm is still stitched up and so is your bullet wound, your ribs are still hurting like hell because you should have had surgery for that but, well, you can't really get that nowadays, not without taking a really high risk of infection or worse; death.

You slip your black combat boots on and slip a big sweatshirt on, zipping it up before making your way towards out of your room to go and have breakfast with Randall.

_ugh, but you've already brushed your teeth!_

You quickly shrug that thought off as you know that it's only your anxiety trying to talk you into skipping yet another meal. Sure, you did already brush your teeth but that's a morning habit that you've had ever since you were a little girl so it's no excuse at all to skip a breakfast, it never stopped you before, no reason why it should now.

 

**9:00** **AM** **//**

You can't believe that you've actually spent a whole hour eating your breakfast with your friends, Randall was there and so were Faith, Connor and Arat. Your stomach hurts now that it's full for the first time in months, you didn't eat much at all but it's enough for you to feel like throwing up. You know that you have to fight it because it's only psychological but it doesn't make it any less complicated, at all.

On your way back to your room, one of Negan's "wives" bump into you and she angrily stares down at you which only serves to piss you off, you didn't do shit to the bitch, she's the one who ran into you.

" **W** atch it, you stupid brat!" she yells at you as if you just stabbed her.

_you should... you definitely should..._

" **H** ey, you're the one who bumped into me." you say, trying really hard to remain polite and calm.

_always stay graceful, that's what Luna taught us..._

" **E** xcuse me? This is my fucking home, you got that? Stay in your lane, you dumb bitch." she says with a mean smile.

_okay, how about you gracefully punch that bitch in the stomach and throw her in a fire?_

" **Y** our home uh," you step closer to her, invading her personal space and you can hear her swallow clear as day as you do, "you don't run shit here. You're just a dumb bitch who doesn't know any better than to open her legs 'cause that's all she's good for. Hell, you don't look like you're all that good at it either, actually. You just sit on your ass, doing your nails all day, giggling like some dumbass whenever a man looks at you, hell, it doesn't happen that often thankfully 'cause goddamn," you slightly tilt your head to the side, flashing her a mean grin, "your laugh seriously makes me want to cut your fucking throat wide open just so that I won't have to hear that shit anymore." at this point, your jaw in clenched shut, your blood is boiling and your hands are closed into tight fists.

You push her out of your way and knock the tray she's holding out of her hand straight on the floor, glass shattering all over the place, you spot Simon walking up to her, almost bending down to pick up the mess but you quickly snap at him.

" **D** on't!" you say as he looks up at you, clearly surprised, " **L** et her do it." you snarl as you eye the reason for your shitty mood before pushing her down on the ground for her to pick up the shattered glass pieces, " **T** he bitch never does shit, least she can do is clean up after her goddamn self."

You turn back around, pissed and angry, making your way back to your room as Simon stands here, completely on his ass. He hands the woman a broom and, even though he'll probably get in a hell of trouble for not helping one of Negan's "wives" out, he has to admit that it's actually nice to have her cleaning her own shit for once.

You spot Negan heading towards your room just as you turn the knob to open it and glare at him, you're fuming. You know damn well that she was bringing the tray he took his breakfast on this morning back and she probably also brought it to him in the first place, and, just the thought of him interacting with one of these women makes you want to cry in pain and disgust.

You enter your bedroom and slam the door shut behind you, jumping on your bed, letting your face fall into the soft pillow laying on the mattress before screaming loudly into it as tears of pure frustration and anger get soaked up in by the pillow.

You don't even realize that Negan walked into the room until one of his hands gently comes down on your back, softly rubbing it, " **H** ey now, what's that big heartache all about, baby girl?"

_heartache, yeah... that's the word for it, i guess._

You keep on sobbing into your pillow, not wanting to look or talk to him, you're tense just from his hand touching you when the exact same touch relaxed you last night. You feel like you might be going crazy because of him.

" **W** anna tell me what the hell happened with Sherry? I mean, shit, you're really fucking hot when you get all angry and frustrated but, damn, I can't have you going around traumatizing the girls." he says with an amused laugh but you're far, far, far away from finding his words amusing, they're hurtful if anything.

You slowly sit down on the soft mattress, wipe your tears with the back of your hand and look up at Negan, he's wearing that stupid cocky smirk of his and you want to slap it right off of his face.

" **W** hat happened to making changes, Negan? No, 'cause I was hammered last night but I wasn't drunk enough to imagine things."

" **B** aby girl, you know I want you to be mine but it's gonna take a little time for things to fall into place. I mean, shit, I can't just kick these ladies out, I'm a fucking gentleman, y'know." he says with a smug look on his face and you feel the urge to tear him apart right there and then.

" **Y** 'know what, Negan? Forget it, forget about last night, okay?" you snap, getting off the bed, tears drowning your pretty [y/e/c] eyes, making them shine, " **Y** ou had me in one of my vulnerable moments, **again**. I've just had the shittiest day ever and I was drunk, I should have kept my mouth shut!" you start to walk towards the small bedroom's door but stop in front of it, " **W** orst part is, I actually meant what I said, every single damn words, Negan." you quickly swallow your tears back, " **J** ust forget about me, I'm done playing games with you, you never play fair anyways." you finish and slam the door shut after you got out of the room

You don't feel anything, your eyes are full of tears but they're not coming out, there's no noise coming out of your mouth either. You've finally reached that point where you can't allow yourself to cry for people like him anymore, he's hurt you enough as it is, you've cried so much for- no- _because_ of him.

You hear him moving around in your bedroom so you decide to head outside before he actually gets out of the room and tries to sweet-talk you like he always does. You're getting hurt because of him, you can't let that happen again, you need to get over him and it should be easy to do so... but it's not, at all.

You hear calling after you as you turn around a corner of the big compound finally getting to a crowed space where you know he won't make a scene, not in front of all of his "employees"

_more like underpaid and underrated people who work their asses off for some sorry lowlife fuck._

And you were right to assume so as you see him looking at you from afar, shouting daggers out of his eyes, his jaw clenched and his grip on Lucille tight, his knuckles red and white.

" **Y** ou smoke, boo?" Faith's voice snaps you out of the weird trance that you're in as you direct your attention to her.

" **U** h, n-no I uh- I don't." you say, sadness clear in your voice as well as frustration.

" **W** ell then, wanna keep me company while I smoke real quick?"

" **Y** -yeah- Yeah, f'course." you say, looking directly at her, flashing her a quick smile.

She grabs your hand and leads you outside where Dwight, Connor and some other dudes are guarding the gate, you quickly wave at them as she drag you to the literal walkers barricade, which kinda freaks you the hell out, they all look so... healthy? Do they feed them?

" **D** o you guys feed those things?"

" **H** onestly? I don't know, never asked, never wanted to know to be honest. This shit grosses me out but it's pretty damn clever though. Gotta admit." she says as she casually takes a pack of cigarettes out, putting on of the sticks between her lips before flicking her lighter, creating a small flame and bringing the cigarette to live as she takes a drag out of it, pushing the smoke out of her lungs and you watch the cloud of smoke fade into thin air.

" **W** hy come here to smoke? I mean- Isn't it supposed to be stress reliever? T-to smoke? So why come in the one place that's filled with walkers to do so?"

" **W** ell, I don't really mind 'em, other people do, y'know? So, I'm sure not to get bothered when I come here to smoke. Only Negan comes here when he needs some alone time, I guess." she takes another drag out of her cigarette, looking at you as she leans against the wall behind you.

" **I** t's amazing how quick you recover, [y/n]. You couldn't even take one step yesterday and now, there you are, walking around without as much as a grimace on your pretty face. I'm seriously impressed, you're a lil' badass." she says with a smile before turning her head around to blow the toxic smoke out.

" **I** t still hurts like hell to be honest, I just- I've had worse, y'know?" you say, looking blankly at the few walkers around you as they try to reach out for you and Faith, the sound of their teeth snapping and animalistic groans filling your ears.

" **I** 'm a thirty-five grown ass woman and, never in my entire damn life, have I met someone like you." she says as she eye you up and down, "You're just so young and- fuck... that shit just ain't right, darlin'." she takes her cigarette out of her mouth and drops it on the concrete ground before crushing it with her ankle-high converse.

You don't need to ask her what she means, you already know. You know that no one your age should think, function nor speak the way you do. It's all consequences of your past but you don't really take it as a punishment. Yes, sometimes, it can be a burden not to be able to feel like an eighteen years old would but, then again, you're not really sure what normality truly is anyway.

You let out a small laugh as you finally come to realize that you actually turned eighteen yesterday. It's odd not to feel excited about it, not to throw a party or to have that awkward, cringe inducing, moment where everyone starts to sing you an happy birthday but then again, you haven't celebrate a single birthday ever since your dad passed.

"[ **Y** /n], boo. You still with me?"

" **I** \- uh- Yeah, yeah- Sorry. Got lost for a second there." you give her a smile and something clicked in your head, making you rush out of the little moment you were having with Faith, "I-uh... I need to get some stuff in my room so-"

" **D** on't sweat it, honey, I can see that you have a lot on your mind. S'fine if you don't want to talk about it. I gotta get to work anyway so, I'll catch you later?" she asks hopefully with a smile on her face.

" **Y** eah, of course."

You run off and navigate through the thick crowd of people running left and right inside the compound, all doing their best not to piss Negan off.

_is there anything that actually doesn't piss that man off?_

You finally reach your room and quickly run in it, not bothering to close the door behind you,and going directly for your locked chest. Unlocking it and taking your backpack, your bow and arrows out to shove them in your bag before putting it on your back, you quickly check to see if your trusty butterfly knife is still safely tugged in your jeans' waistband and get out of the room, closing the door before walking back down the corridor, doing your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, a few loose strands framing your face. You quickly get outside and walk towards the guarded gate, your head up, trying to make yourself seem a bit confident.

" **H** ey, Dwight." you wave at him as you walk closer to the gate, " **C** an you open the gate for me, please? Be back in three hours."

" **U** h, [y/n], no disrespect but- you sure you want to go out after what happen-"

" **Y** es, I'm sure."

" **A** ll alone? I mean what if something happens again and you're all al-"

" **Y** ou guys were with me when I got taken away, weren't you?" you snap, " **Y** ou didn't do shit for me even though you were all armed head to toe, **I** got myself out of this! _Me_ , all alone! You didn't do anything! I got out of it even though I was bleeding out and tired!" there's tears coming back in your eyes and your breath gets caught in your throat when you realize that you've just yelled at Dwight for no reason, it wasn't his fault. " **I** \- I'm so sorry, Dwight."

" **D** on't be, you're right and I hope that you give yourself credit for what you got yourself out of. I couldn't have done it no matter how much I'd like to believe I would." he opens the gate in front of you and gives you a small smile, " **I** never thanked you."

" **T** -thanked me? W-What for?" you look up at him, confused as to what he could possibly have to thank you for.

" **R** emember that chat we've had, like, two nights ago?" you slowly nod your head, "Well it, uh- It really helped me out a lot, actually. So, yeah, thank you for that, needed it."

" **I** 'm happy to hear that you're doing better, Dwight. You deserve it." you bring yourself up on your tiptoes and carefully kiss the intact part of his face, giving him a small smile before walking out of the compound, the gate closing behind you.

" **T** hree hours, you said?" Dwight asks.

" **Y** -yeah, three hours."

" **A** lright, you be safe out there."

" **A** lways." you say with a nervous laugh before walking down the road leading away from the Sanctuary, walking down the quiet road.

_you're not coming back in three hours are ya?_

You're not sure when you'll go back, you **will** come back but you don't know when. All you need right now is to have some distance, to be away from _him_ , to be away from this place, to go and get lost in the woods like you used to do, let all your anger, sadness and frustration out - **You need you**.

 

**10:00** **AM** **//**

You have no clue as to where you are but it's super pretty. You look at your surroundings, there's a few walkers around, a bunch of flowers trying really hard to bloom through the very cold weather and there's rays of sunlight piercing through the small spaces between each leaves of each tree, this place looks almost untouched which is a really rare sight nowadays.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to the brim, before slowly letting it all out with a small smile on your face. This feels right, being out here feels right. This is home to you. You like being out here, you hate feeling safe, you feel like you don't deserve it anyway.

You do though, more than anyone else does, if there's one person left on this planet that truly deserves a roof about their head, food in their stomach and to be surrounded by positivity it's you but you're blinded by the scars people left on you, all the abuse you've been through seriously changed you in every way; you never felt confidence, you always feel like you're not good enough, you hate your body, you always side with people when they throw shit at your face and you feel like their words are deserved when they're not, at all.

Thankfully, ever since the world got turned upside down, ever since you've been left completely on your own in such a cold and cruel world, you proved yourself just how much you're truly worth, just how strong you are and you're proud of yourself for not going back to bottling your emotions up when it would have been the "smart" thing to do in this kind of world.

" **T** his place is so pretty." you whisper to yourself, your eyes scanning the area surrounding you.

You keep on walking further into the woods, eyeing the soft colors of the flowers claiming the ground beneath you, when a squirrel jumps out of nowhere, making you almost pee yourself.

" **O** H MY FREAking god. What the heck, dude!?" you scream as quietly as possible, glaring at the squirrel that seems to be in some kind of weird drug trip to be honest, he's freaking the fuck out, running around in circles and jumping from tree to tree.

_you can't even trust squirrels these days... how sad._

 

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**12:00** **PM** **//**

A knock on Negan's door makes him groan as he was lost in a book which he throws back inside a drawer in his desk before barking at whoever knocked to get in.

" **H** ey, there. I brought you your dinner, baby." one of his "wives", Lilly (?) says, walking towards his desk before gently dropping his tray filled with food on the wooden surface.

" **I** thought I told you all not to come bother me, didn't I?"

" **Y** -yes, but, I mean, you have to eat," she twirls her hair around with her fingers, "Y'know, you need energy for us, daddy."

Negan's eyebrows furrow, he doesn't like that, he fucking hates it actually. He only plays around with the whole daddy kink thing with you, no one else, it came naturally with you, he doesn't explain it and he doesn't give a shit really, but having someone other than you using this term with him just makes him gag which is odd 'cause he never felt repulsed by any of these women before... Yeah, at least not before you came into his life.

Getting up from his chair, he rounds his desk, his jaw clenched but she doesn't seem to notice that he's pissed, she actually lets out an high-pitched giggle and he has to close his eyes to keep himself from screaming in frustration.

" **G** et.The.Fuck.Out.Now." he says through gritted teeth making all giggles from the woman stop immediately, frustration showing on her face.

" **U** gh! What's going on with you? Ever since this... bitch, came here you haven't touched any of us! We have fucking needs too, Negan! What the hell?! What, she fucks you better than me? You're gonna tell me that she can get you off better than five actually experienced and fully grown ass women can?" she yells, fuming with jealously as she knows damn well that you actually are way prettier than all the "wives" here combined.

Negan's jaw clenches even harder, he's about to fucking lose it. She doesn't get to talk about his baby like that, no one fucking does. He gets closer to her, crushing her against a wall, his face directly in front of hers as they're about the same height.

" **Y** ou really wanna know?" he snarls with a smirk, "Fuck yes, she does. She makes my dick rock hard just with a fucking giggle. Wanna know some' else? I never even had sex with her but, goddamn, when I will I'll fucking fuck her brains out for everyone in the fucking compound to fucking hear and let me tell you one last thing, she can fucking make me cum with a single goddamn kiss so, yeah, she actually is better than five fucking women all together, as a matter of fact, I would rather have her for the rest of my goddamn life all to myself than to keep the five of you or anyone else, you satisfied?" he asks before slowly backing away from her, "As for you having needs, you don't get to fuckin' complain 'cause, goddamn, if I don't always fucking make you sure y'all aren't missing shit. As for being experienced, the girl can fucking make me cum just with a fucking smile so I'll check my facts if I were you. Now, get the fuck out." he orders one last time as Lily leaves his office, fuming with anger and jealousy.

" _I would rather have her for the rest of my god damn life all to myself than keep the five of you or anyone else_ " his own words invade his mind, drowning him in thoughts and those feelings he hates so much. He knows he should just get rid of them and earn your trust and love but his pride just keeps on getting in the way.

He's frustrated with himself as much as he is with you, he's frustrated with you because you're so out of reach yet so fucking close, because you're so hard to get yet so simple to approach, because he knows that he hasn't done right by you and that he's hurt you way too many times. Hell, he just did it again this morning. He though about how this morning could have gone all night long, he thought about you all night long and he still couldn't do the right thing when he came to you this morning.

He's getting weaker and weaker when it comes to you though and he definitely noticed that but, oddly enough, he doesn't mind. It only means that, at some point, he knows he'll finally suck it up and do right by you, hopefully sooner than later.

 

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**6:15** **PM** **; //**

The sun is slowly setting as you finally gather the guts to get out of the small woods hiding you away from anyone's sight to make your way towards the huge gate protecting Hilltop and its occupants. You come into the guards' view and they seem to recognize you even though you never even had the change to meet them, hell, you didn't meet anyone but Jesus and Harlan.

" **W** hat do you want? Negan already had his share of our shit, don't tell me he wants more 'cause we don't fucking have more." one of them say, clearly scared and angry. You don't blame him at all, you'd already have lost your mind if someone was to take away the stuff you risk your life for every single day.

" **I** -I'm no-not here for that a-at all." you say nervously, pulling on your shaking fingers, your nerves and the really cold weather getting to you, " **I** \- I just- I'm s-sorry, I didn't m-mean to s-scare you guys. I uh- I'm gonna g-go, I'm sorry." you curse yourself for even thinking that paying Paul a visit could have been a good idea as you wrap your arms around your shaking frame and start walking away but you stop when you hear the gate of the small village being opened.

You're not sure if turning around is such a good idea, you don't know if they've open the gate to welcome you in or to shoot you, you wouldn't blame them if they did shoot you, you're nothing but one of Negan's dogs to them after all.

" **I** 'm guessing that you're here to say hi to Paul, [y/n]?" you hear Harlan's soft voice call out making you turn around quickly.

" **Y** -yes, but-" there's tears blurring your vision as you recall never thanking him for saving your life- twice, " **I** -" you don't know what to say so you just walk up to him and hug him tightly, repeating thank yous as you do so.

" **H** ey, it's okay, [y/n]." he softly reassures you as he carefully hugs you back, " **I** never thought you to be ungrateful, I know it's not your fault that we've never had a chance to have a real conversation and to get to know each other. I know that, don't you worry that pretty head little of yours."

" **T** -thank you, Harlan. I- I don't even know how to tell you j-just how sorry I am for everything."

" **W** ell then, how about you don't?" he slightly pulls back from you to look at your face, " **Y** ou don't have a single thing to be sorry for, [y/n]."

It feels like someone just took a huge weight off of your shoulders as he finishes his sentence, you let out a deep breath that you didn't know you've been holding until now, relief washing over you as you realize that he never thought of you as a bad, ungrateful person.

" **C** ome on in, darling. You're freezing." he says as he walks the two of you back into the safety of Hilltop before the gate closes behind you, making you jump slightly at the noise.

" **I** 'm gonna go get Jesus, he's gonna be really happy to see you. That man really cares about you, you know." he says with a smile as he walks towards the big mansion sitting in the middle of the village.

One of the man guarding the gate, the one who spoke to you a few minutes ago, comes to you, scratching the back of his neck as you look down, pulling on your fingers again, " **H** ey, look- Shit, I'm sorry for the hostility, I just-uh. Y'know, we have issues with Negan and, well, we don't have much left."

" **N** o," you look up at him, "d-don't apologize, I totally get it, I really do. It's okay if you don't trust me, I get it. But, for what it's worth... I truly am sorry about what's happening to you guys, it's unfair and uncalled for."

" **U** h, I-" he looks shocked and you wonder if these people ever get the sightliest bit of compassion from anyone but themselves anymore which isn't exactly a pleasant thought, " **T** hank you. I'm Andy by the way." he says as he extends his hand for you to shake.

" **I** \- [Y/n], nice to meet you, Andy." you answer with a shy smile, your small hand shaking his.

" **N** ice to meet you too." he says with a genuine smile, clearly more relaxed now.

You hear the big mansion's front door opening, turn your attention to the big building and run into Jesus' arms the second he comes into view and he carefully catches you before bringing you closer to him, letting you curl up in his chest.

" **H** ey there, little one'" he whispers with a smile against the top of your head and gently kisses it before wrapping his arms around your much smaller frame, " **W** hat are you doing out here, [y/n]?"

" **I** think I ran away." you whisper, looking up at him, as if it was supposed to be a secret.

" **Y** ou think you ran away?" he says, amused by your confusion about your own situation.

" **Y** eah," you say as you turn your head back down on his chest, pressing your left cheek against it, "I told Dwight that I'll be back in three hours but, well, that was nine hours ago."

Jesus lets out a small laugh, making his chest vibrate against your head, " **W** ell, I just got back from a supply run which means that my day is done. How about you stick around and hang out with me for a bit?" he asks with a smile.

" **C** -can I?" you ask, excited, your eyes sparkling with excitement and envy.

" **O** f course, [y/n]...but you have to help me load the supplies out of the truck, 'cause, like, you don't want to be impolite and all."

" **O** f couuuurse there's a catch, you're the worst." you over-dramatically whine before throwing your head back like a tantrum-throwing child.

" **W** hat? Afraid you won't be able to lift anything, s'that it?" he says teasingly.

You have to admit that you love the fact that he's not afraid to challenge you like this instead of treating you as if you're made out of paper thin glass even though he knows damn well about the state's your body is in. Hell, he saw it first hand after all.

" **Y** 'know, for a dude that gets called Jesus? You're surprisingly evil."

" **Y** eah, I know, right? I even drink milk directly out of the bottle sometimes and you know what else?" he slowly leans down to face you, "I also eat cereals... without any milk, completely dry." he says with an awful "villain" laugh and you're pretty sure that he's mimicking Negan's which makes it all even more hilarious to you.

You both end up bursting out in laughter in the middle of the small community, Harlan watching the two of you from afar with a smile on his face, happy to see both Jesus and you laughing happily and enjoying each other's company.

 

**10:00** **PM** **//**

" **O** kay, okay, what about... The smell of the walkers?" you ask with a smile on your face.

" **I** t's a good reminder that we're not like them, we're alive." Jesus says, turning his head slightly to look at you, both of his forearms comfortably resting underneath his head.

The two of you are lying down on the rooftop of Gregory's mansion, you're completely wrapped in one of Jesus' coat and you've been stargazing for hours now whilst talking about everything and literally anything.

" **G** ood point. I'm still not used to it though, y'know? I've met so many people who used to say that we all get used to it a some point but... I just can't seem to. I mean- How are you supposed to get used to the smell of rotting corpses?"

" **I** honestly don't know, [y/n]. I'm not used to it either, I don't want to get used to it. It's like I said, it's a good reminder that we're still here, we're still living through it all."

You tear your eyes away from the star filled sky to look at Paul who's still looking at you with a smile on his face, " **I** just wish that- Ugh, sorry, just- forget it." you say, looking back at the sky in an attempt to ease the feeling of awkwardness and slight sadness you're getting.

" **T** ell me, what'd you wish for?" he asks with genuine concern and curiosity in his voice.

" **I** just- You know- Ugh." you take a deep breath and force yourself to keep your eyes fixed on the stars covering the beautiful night sky, " **S** ometimes I just wish that I could just- End it. But t-then- I ju-just keep wondering; w-what if I miss out on really cool things, you-you know?" a single tear escapes your eye as you finally let that heavy thought out.

"[ **Y** /n]-" Jesus slowly sits down and takes a long look at your face as you're still laying down, " **Y** ou don't know just how important you are, do you? You're gentle, kind, you have to be the prettiest girl I've ever seen." he chuckles when you whine and blush at his words, "You're incredibly smart, you care about people and you're still so innocent, this Earth needs you to stay going, [y/n]. You seriously give me hope when it comes to the situation we're all in and, hell, there's a lot of good people living here, really good people, but you- You're beyond being a really good person, I don't really know how to put it to be honest." he looks at you as you carefully sit down next to him, still avoiding his gaze, " **L** et's just say that, if I could, I'd totally adopt you."

You let out a giggle at his words. For some reason Jesus always seems to be able to make you smile or laugh even when you're at your worst.

You hear him laugh next to you and you shyly lean your head against his broad right shoulder, closing your eyes as he brings his whole arm around you to bring you closer to him and let you nuzzle your head into the crook of his shoulder before kissing the top of your head.

" **Y** ou'll be alright, kiddo. You've been through too much to give up now. I know it's hard and I can't even begin to imagine just how hard it must be for you being all alone and heal, pushing through depression every single day without any medical help is seriously impressive, I know I wouldn't fuck around with you that's for damn sure." he brings you a slight bit closer to him and talks softly in your hear, "Your depression is nothing to be ashamed of, [y/n], you hear me? You're not worth less than anyone else, you deserve happiness, you deserve safety, you deserve to be taken care of, you deserve to be surrounded by good people, people who actually care about you, are we clear?"

You just nod your head quickly against his chest, tears flowing out of your eyes, they're good tears, tears of relief. You don't know how he realized that you do suffer from a severe depression but you're glad that he seems to be able to see right through you, it makes for easier communication, especially giving the fact that you suffer with selective mutism.

" **I** 'm scared, Paul." you whisper as if you didn't really want him to catch your words but he does.

" **I** know, [y/n]. But you don't have to be, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

" **D** on't write checks you can't cash." you whisper again but he hears you loud and clear.

" **I** s that a challenge?" he says with a small smile, getting one from you in return as you recall him saying the same thing in the exact same tone when you told him that he couldn't keep on giving you his clothes.

You're scared, scared of loosing him after he made you feel so safe and valued, scared of him getting tired of your tears, scared of him abandoning you because you're too much to handle, you're just scared of being all alone again yet you're so prepared for it.

_no, it's not a challenge, it's a plea._

 

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**MIDNIGHT** **//**

You finally spot the Sanctuary's gates, it's so cold outside, your whole body is shaking and you can't feel your face anymore. You're thankful that Jesus gave you one of his jacket to keep you warm since the only thing covering your upper body is a t-shirt.

You try to push the gate open but it's locked tight and you feel like screaming.

_of course it's fucking locked..._

You try to see if you can spot whoever is on duty at the gate tonight but the moonlight isn't enough for you to see clearly.

_we should just go back to hilltop, after all, jesus did say that we could stay the night if we wanted to, so... yeah?_

You seriously consider your options for a second as you push your backpack further up on your back, your right hand is tightly wrapped around your bow as you stay prepared for the eventuality of a walker popping out of nowhere, especially in the dark.

You also have a bag full of supplies, medical supplies, food, five guns and a few bullets waiting for Negan to pick up. You kept your promise to always bring whatever you find out there to him, and yes, you're pissed to do so but you have your codes and rules; keeping your promises when it's possible for you to do so being one of them, you're stuck.

"[ **Y** /n]?" you hear Connor's voice coming out of the dark and you finally spot him as he runs up to you, quickly opening the gate for you to get in, " **Y** ou scared the shit out of us! Negan almost sent us back out there to look for you and we were more than willing to do so! What the hell!? You can't just run off like that! What in the fuck were you thinking?!" he says, relieved to see that you're safe and sound, but he clearly was scared shitless and his body is showing it, he's shaking and his eyes are glossy with tears.

You don't think twice about it and hug him tightly, getting on your tiptoes to hide your head in the crook of his neck.

" **I** 'm sorry, Connor. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone, I didn't mean to worry you. I never want you to think that I would run off without saying goodbye, ever." you whisper as he relaxes against you, " **I** 'm sorry, I just needed some alone time, I really, really, needed this."

" **Y** ou feelin' any better, princess?" he asks, still holding you tightly against him.

" **I** dunno, I- I'm kind of lost right now," you softly let go of him, immediately missing his body heat, to look at him, "but- I will be, eventually. It can't always be rainbows and sunshine but it can't always be all bad either, right?"

" **Y** eah, can't have light without darkness and all that crap." he says with a genuine smile and a small chuckle.

" **Y** ou didn't strike me as a poet, Connor." you say, making fun of him for his lake of optimism.

" **T** hey call me Van-Gogh."

" **T** hat's a painter, Connor."

" **Y** eah? Well- Could he write his name and his fucking email address in the snow with his piss?"

" **Y** ou're so delicate, I swear- Wait, you can actually write your email address too?"

" **I** knew I liked you for a reason, you ask the real important questions." he says with a laugh making you laugh along.

Your little moment is cut short by the sound of a throat being roughly cleared and it seems to be enough for Connor to shyly wave you goodbye and to go back to his post along the fences.

" **W** hat'd you think I should do to you, uh?" Negan's scruffy voice sends the worst kind of shivers down your spine as he steps right in front of you and it takes every last drop of courage you have for you not to look down.

" **I** don't know, whatever you think would be in order, boss." you answer, sounding way colder than you intended to.

" **O** h, so now I'm your "boss", uh?" he asks through his clenched jaw, clearly not please with his actual status. He normally demands to be called boss and only boss by his "employees" and even though you're supposed to be one of 'em, you're not to him so, yeah, he's pissed.

You let out a small sigh, not in the mood to get in another fight with him, " **H** ere you go, boss." you quietly say as you throw the bag filled with supplies at his feet with a nonchalant attitude before walking past him, slightly brushing his arm with your shoulder as you walk by him to get inside the compound and to go back to your room to try and get some sleep.

You realized just how much of a contrast it makes when you spend time with Jesus and then with Negan, it's way different, way way different. But, oddly enough, and even though you hate it, you enjoy both, for different reasons and in different ways but still, you enjoy both companies.

Negan's rough hand harshly grabs your wrist to bring you back outside before you can even take another step inside the compound and roughly pushes you against a cold, hard wall making you hiss in slight pain and discomfort.

" **W** e need to fuckin' talk, doll." he says through gritted teeth.

" **Y** eah, we do." you say, looking down as you're trying not to stutter, "Thing is, I'm pretty sure we don't see eye to eye when it comes to which issue we need to discuss, Negan." you finish without stuttering once but with tears filling your eyes instead.

" **O** h, so now we have fuckin' issues, uh? Alright then, dolly, how 'bout that, I tell you what's fucking bugging the hell out of me and then, maybe, you'll get to tell me what in the holy fuck is going on with you?"

He's so close to you, you can feel his breath hitting your forehead as he's leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse of your eyes since you're looking at the ground beneath you.

" **Y** ou almost got into a fucking fight with Sherry, you fuckin' walked away from me this morning when we were in the middle of a goddamn conversation, you fucking ignored me when I fuckin' called after you, you went outside the fucking compound after what happened to you a fucking day ago," he voice is starting to sound more and more angry as he keeps on listing your recent activities, "you fucking told Dwight that you'll be back in three fucking hours and you show up fifteen fucking hours later! Where the fuck were you, uh? Fucking shit, doll, you've been giving me so much fucking attitude, you keep on fucking disobeying me, you're constantly defying me and you fucking talk back too." he takes a step closer to you and crush your shaking body between the rough wall behind you and his body, his breathing uneven and his jaw clenched, " **I** 'm getting seriously pissed with all the shit you seem to enjoy putting me through, not only your fucking attitude, nah, you're constant fucking teasing too. Y'know what you need, doll? I think you need a good o'l punishment."

You want to ask him so many questions such as; what constant teasing? how can you possibly tease him when you have no idea what that's even supposed to fucking look like? when you don't fucking know how to even "flirt"? But the only one that comes out of your mouth is; " **W** -what? Y-you're gonna give Lucille a-another go at me?" you're still looking down, tears falling out of your eyes to directly fall on the hard ground and Negan is so close to you right now that you can't even see your boots anymore, all you can see are his legs.

" **N** ah, as much I love to see my two favorite girls play together," he slightly tilts his head with a wicked grin on his lips which seriously worries and scares you, "I'll be the one doing the spanking this time and, y'know, no matter how bad you though Lucille was on your ass, I'm gonna be much, much, worse, doll. You think you ever seen me pissed? Let me change that real quick."

You don't get to process what's happening when you're thrown on his broad shoulder as he walks towards his quarters, his grip on you is awfully tight and it actually hurts but you can't say nor do a damn thing, you're completely paralyzed by fear and frustration, you're frustrated by the things he does to you, the way he makes you feel, you're really confused by it all.

You really start to panic when a door is slammed shut and another one clicks shut a few seconds after. You start to wiggle around, trying to get free, on his shoulder when you realize that you're now in his bedroom.

_you're in his room... you're in negan's room... you are in negan's bedroom... the bedroom that belongs to negan... lol, fuck no._

He sets you down on the carpet covered floor and you quickly take several steps back until your back hit the door leading out of his bedroom and to his office.

" **W** hat the hell, Negan?"

" **W** hat happened to "boss", baby doll?" he says with a mean smile.

" **W** hat happened to me not wanting to be in your headquarters? What happened to me not wanting to be in your freaking bedroom? What happened to being a man of your words?!" you quickly turn around and pull at the doorknob, wiggling it pointlessly because Negan locked the damn door and the key is God knows where.

_he probably swallowed it and now you're stuck in here with him forever 'cause that's totally something negan would do._

You sigh and let your forehead fall repeatedly on the hard wooden door, tears filling your eyes as you realize just how vulnerable you are whenever he's around and now you're literally stuck in a room with him. 

" **C** 'mere, baby girl, you're not going anywhere any time soon anyway." his voice is right behind you and you can feel his breath on your exposed neck as your hair are still resting in a messy bun on top of your head, "I didn't know my baby was tattooed." he says with a grin as he looks at the black feathers going down the back of your neck and disappearing beneath your shirt.

" **Y** ou're full of crap, Negan." you turn around and muster up enough courage to look him straight in the eyes, "You talk big but you never do shit."

" **W** atch the way you speak to me, [y/n]." he spits in an angry tone, clearly aggravated by your behavior and your words, " **N** o one ever came in this fucking room but me and no one ever slept in this fucking bed but me, doll. So fucking relax, you're the only person who ever even fucking caught a fucking glimpse of my damn bedroom."

For some reason, it actually soothes you to know that you're the only girl that's ever been in his bedroom but it doesn't really appease you though. He's clearly pissed and you know that he actually meant it when he said that you weren't going anywhere any time soon.

You watch carefully as he walks up to his bed before sitting at the edge of the mattress. He looks down and lets out a loud sigh followed with a small laugh before looking back up at you and extending his hand out for you to take just like Andy did earlier but you seriously doubt that Negan is actually asking for an handshake right now.

" **C** 'mon, doll, you either take my hand or I'm coming over to get you myself and I'm pretty sure you don't want that." he says in a firm yet somehow gentle tone.

You shakily take his hand and it immediately closes itself up around your smaller, shaky one as Negan brings you right in front of him with a little too much force resulting in you slightly losing your balance but he quickly puts his hand on your tummy to balance you back up.

" **T** -thank you." you say with red cheeks as your blood is rushing through them and it feels like its forgetting to actually go through your brain as well.

" **Y** ou're welcome, baby girl." he says with a smirk on his face, his eyes scanning your body from head to toe," **P** ants off, dolly."

You almost choke on your own spit at his words but he doesn't seem faced by your reaction, it actually seems to make him smile if anything, " **W** -what?"

" **Y** 'heard me, pants off, now, you can keep your panties if you want but the pants are going. C'mon, chop chop." he says, clapping his hands together twice, that cocky smirk of his still splattered on his face, making you blush furiously.

" **N** -negan, I-" you can't talk properly so you just shake your head left and right whilst looking down at the soft floor.

" **L** ook at me, doll." he says as he gently, well the "negan" version of gentle, grabs your face with his right hand, " **I** t's not just me, you fucked up when you didn't respect our lil' contract today, yeah?" there's nothing you can do or say to that because he's right, you didn't respect the rules he's set when he was nice enough not to take all of your freedom away so you just nod your head yes, " **A** lright then, d'you know what happens when someone misbehave here? I burn half of their fucking face off or they get something chopped off, now, I don't what to do none of that to you, baby girl, I just fucking don't, but you gotta learn that you just can't keep on being so fucking disobedient. A spanking's the only thing I have in mind for ya, dolly. Like I said, you gotta learn and, damn, m'not gonna lie, I'm more than happy to show you what happens when you misbehave if it means that I get to touch and see your bubbly lil' ass again, baby." he finishes with a cocky smile as your cheeks are slowly melting off of your face because of the heat in them.

You shakily reach for the button of your jeans and slowly undo it, your pants immediately dropping on the floor, pooling at your ankles, since they're way too big for you and the small button was the only thing keeping them up around your waist. You gasp when you feel the denim dropping so quickly, exposing your shaky thighs and legs to Negan.

Your body is still sore and bruised but all your wounds are closed by now even though they're not healed yet.

" **G** ood girl, now, c'mere." he says whilst tapping his lap with a cheeky smirk.

_not helping, you ass bag..._

You hesitantly take a shy step towards him, your eyes fixed on the floor still, but his hand gets a hold of you and quickly brings you to him, pushing you down on his laps, your legs resting on his thighs and your head flush against the mattress before you can even blink.

" **D** amn, look at that." you feel his hand gently touching the soft skin of your butt, his touch is feather like as he traces what you know to be the scars Lucille left on your skin, you only feel his fingertips because of your body's hypersensitivity, " **L** ucille sure did make a number on ya, didn't she, doll? Fuck, that must have hurt like a big o'l bitch, uh?" he says with a rather dark small laugh before grabbing an handful of your bum, making you squeal.

" **N** ow, I want you to count every single spank I'll give you out loud and you better say thank you afterwards. You miss one," he pauses and harshly grabs a handful of your hair, violently making your back arch and bringing your head up, making you cry out, his mouth right next to your left ear, " **Y** ou miss one, and I'll start all over again. Hell, I'll even fucking double the damn number just 'cause you really pissed me off today with your goddamn disobedient attitude, we clear?"

" **Y** -yes, Negan."

Your cheeks are burning up, you can't believe you're laying down on his laps, waiting for him to punish you yet again, but you're grateful that Lucille isn't part of it this time though, that damn bat left some serious bruises on your butt cheeks and you don't really wish for more right about now.

You let out a cry of pain when his hand comes down on your left cheek, your first reflex is to try and get away from him but you quickly calm down and bite down on your lip, remembering his instructions.

" **O** -one, t-thank you daddy."

_you did not..._

You hear him let out a low grunt inside your left ear and you're not sure if it's because he likes it or because he's mad about it, " **G** od fucking damn, baby girl. You're being really good right now, see, it ain't that hard now, is it?" he says with a cocky smile, trying to ignore the fact that his cock just twitched when the word "daddy" came out of your mouth.

He remembers the way the same exact word sounded like when it came out of another woman's mouth, how he almost gagged because of it but, fuck, hearing you say it is something he truly craves and, fuck, he almost regrets starting this whole thing now that he's heard it coming out of your mouth like that, he knows that it'll only make it way harder for him to control himself, he's barely able to do so right now.

He brings his hand down a second time and tightens his grip on your hair, making sure to hold you in place.

" **T** wo! T-thank you, daddy." you cry out, your bum burning slightly, he was right, he is way worse than Lucille actually was.

" **Y** ou're my baby girl, doll. These other women are just here to be here. You're my only baby girl and I'm your only daddy, that's how it is and that's how it's gonna stay."

A small needy noise comes out of your mouth, surprising the two of you. For some reason, knowing that you're the only one he sees and threats that way does something to you, you don't know what but the noise that just came out of your mouth gives Negan a huge hint as to what the "thing" it does to you is; pure arousal.

" **Y** eah, you love having daddy's attention, don't you baby girl?"

" **Y** -yes, daddy, I do." you admit, not being able to keep quiet anymore.

His hand comes down on your butt for the third time now, making you jump forward on his laps as you brings your hands up on the mattress to give you some balance and to relief the burning feeling of Negan pulling your hair just to be able to speak directly into your left ear.

"T-Three! Thank you, daddy."

" **S** o needy." his voice is even more gravely that it usually is and you get an odd feeling in your tummy, " **Y** ou've been giving daddy so much attitude today, you've been so fucking bad, sneakin' out behind my back, throwin' shit at me, talkin' back to me, fuck, tellin' me to fucking forget about you?"

" **I** 'm sorry." you whine, wiggling around on his laps, already missing his touch.

His hand comes down again and this one seriously stings you as you try to get your butt away from him but he's still firmly holding you in place, his free hand still tangled in your hair, preventing you from going anywhere. You quickly calm down and count the fourth spank, thanking him afterwards.

" **W** here the fuck were you, uh?" he asks with a snarl as he gives you a fifth spank, making you wince.

" **H** -hilltop, I was at Hilltop! Five, that's five. Thank you, daddy."

" **H** illtop, uh? Jesus kept you company I'm guessing, doll?" he says clearly getting angry again just as he was starting to calm down.

" **Y** -yes but-"

You don't get to finish, your yes is enough for him to snap and lash out on you as he brings his hand down on your butt four times in a row, forcing you to count out loud every single one of them and to thank him for it.

When finally gets to the fourteenth spank, you're in tears, your butt hurts like hell, it feels numb but it's not at all, you can feel blood running down on your thighs and his hand gently rubs your cheeks as he slowly lets go of your hair and grips your jaw instead to make you face him before rubbing the tip of his nose against the tip of yours.

"One more and you're all done, princess." he whispers, his breath hitting your parted lips and, just as you're about to protest and tell him that you can't take one more, he brings his hand down on your left butt cheek one last time and this one makes you sob out and collapse on the bed.

Not letting your tears get to him, Negan reaches for your jaw once again and brings you back up, his mouth right against your ear as he speaks, " **C** ount it, baby girl." when all he gets from you is a sob and some more tears, he simply brings his hand to your left butt cheek again and simply let it rest there, the threat in the touch not getting lost on you and you jump at the contact, stumbling to finds your words, " **C** 'mon, princess, you've been so fuckin' good for me, just count it and it'll be over, baby. Don't make me start that shit all over again, we both know I fucking will." with that, he gives your left butt cheek a threatening squeeze and your entire body flinches on his lap as you try to squirm away from his hand.

" **N** o, no, no! F-Fifteen, t-that fifteen! Thank you, daddy, I'm sorry! I won't d-do it again, promise." you sob out, your legs shaking and your bum throbbing and stinging like hell but it all seems to go away when Negan's lips find yours and give you an oddly gentle kiss.

Carefully, he lifts you up and off of his laps before gently lay you down on your stomach on his satin sheets covered bed and walking to his bathroom, leaving you alone for a few seconds as he looks for something to soothe your pain and to keep bruises from forming on your butt.

You cry into the mattress but you're not sure why. It's a mix between the pain you're feeling in your backside and the awful feeling you get from misbehaving so much that Negan got mad at you. You're completely lost, you're tired and your whole body hurts and aches, not to mention the horrible discomfort you're feeling in your tummy, it's like there's something tugging down in your guts and it's weird, you don't much care for it.

" **H** ey, princess, c'mere." Negan coos as he drags you on the mattress and closer to him, his taller frame hovering over you as he stays standing while you're laying on his bed. You whine and try to squirm away from his hands when you feel him tugging at the waistband of your panties, " **S** hh, baby, s'okay. M'not gonna do anythin' to ya. You trust me?" you're so quick to whisper a "yes" and nod your head that it's almost embarrassing but neither of you seem to care.

Cautiously, he pushes your panties down just below the mounds of your butt and you're too busy hiding your embarrassment to even hear the guttural grunt Negan lets out at the sight of you. You squeal when you feel something really cold hitting the heated, throbbing, skin of your bum as Negan gently puts lotion on both cheeks to sooth your soreness.

Once he's done, he wipes his hands on his jeans and carefully push your panties back up to cover up your butt before he softly carries you under the sheets of his bed, you'd protest but his mattress is so soft and his smell is all over the pillows so you just stay calm and let him take care of you. You feel his hand going under your t-shirt, running along your back and leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake before unclasping your bra, letting you take it off on your own as he doesn't want to cross any more line tonight.

You rest your head against a soft, cool pillow and feel your heart in your throat when you see Negan walking towards the door of his bedroom.

" **W** ait- no- st-stay, please." you plead with tears in your eyes.

" **D** oll, I don't want to do something you're not comfortable with." he says with a small laugh before tilting his head, "Again." he adds, clearly referring to the spanking he just gave you.

" **B** ut I'm c-comfortable with it!"

" **B** aby girl," he slowly walks back to you and sits down next to your legs on his bed, "it's not that I don't want to share my bed with you, hell, that's all I fucking want but- Not when my dick is rock hard, princess." he says with a cocky smile as he watches your cheeks get to a darker shade of red.

He slowly gets back up but you quickly sit on the mattress and reach out to grab his huge hand in your smaller one, keeping him from walking away, " **D** oll-"

" **L** et me fix it then, I- I wanna fix it." you whisper, shyly looking down at the satin sheets covering your bare legs, your hand shaking in his.

" **B** aby girl- fucking shit." he's getting light headed from your words alone and he feels his cock twitching in his briefs, begging for release.

" **W** e-we don't have to do- y'know- the thing," you whisper the last word, "b-but, lemme fix this, teach me, p-pretty please?"

He's lost his will to keep you from touching him and completely gives into you, he can't take it anymore. Plus you're clearly okay with it so he might as well take the hand he's quite literally being given.

He quickly gets rid of his leather jacket and his white t-shirt, throwing the items of clothing on the floor before kicking his boots and socks off. He slowly gets back up and looks at you, looking for a sign to stop but he only sees your eyes glued to the big bulge deforming his pants which amuses him. He quickly undo his jeans and kick them off but keep his boxers on before climbing in the bed next to you, covering his lower body with the sheets before looking at you.

" **W** hat do I do?" you whisper as if you were about do to something super secret that no one knows about.

" **C** 'mere, baby girl." he softly demands as he brings you closer to him, laying you against the right side of his body, " **T** here, now, gimme your right hand, princess." you do as you're told and give him your shaky right hand, your cheeks burning a crimson red as he takes it in his own hand.

" **P** romise me you'll tell me if it gets too much for you, baby." he says looking straight into your eyes.

" **I** p-promise."

He looks at you one last time and kisses your lips with need as he slowly guides both of your hands underneath the sheets down to his briefs which he quickly puts down with his free hand as his lips are still assaulting yours.

" **O** pen your hand, baby doll." he whispers against yours lips as he looks straight into your eyes which are now filled with curiosity and excitement.

You slowly open your hand underneath the sheets and let him guide you to carefully wrap it around his throbbing erection, grunting when he feels your small soft hand around him as you bite down on your lip, carefully watching his face, his eyes are way darker than they usually are and his chest is quickly going up and down as he looks at you and gives you a cocky smirk.

" **Y** our hand's too small for daddy, doll face."

You ignore his words and curiously move your hand up on his cock and still when he lets out a groan, unsure if you were supposed to do that or not.

" **F** ucking fuck, keep going, baby girl, keep moving your hand up and down."

You relax a bit as he makes it clear that you didn't hurt him at all and start moving your hand up and down on him, moving agonizingly slow.

" **U** gh, baby girl, rub your lil' thumb on top of it."

You let your head rest on his heaving chest as he lays back on the bed, his head propped on his pillow, and curiously move your thumb around until you finally find a round, soft part on his cock which you assume was where he wanted you to touch him so you start rubbing your thumb in small circles on it, making him grunt below you.

" **D** addy, it's wet, why's it wet?" you ask genuinely curious about the whole thing, you never touched a man like that before and you don't even see what the hell is going on since he covered it all up but you assume that that's how he wanted it to be and you think it might be for the best because whatever's down there is freaking huge and full of thick veins but it's oddly nice to touch which is weird to you but you like it so you don't question it.

" **I** t's uh- fucking hell - it's just 'cause I'm having a fucking blast right now, dolly." he groans through heavy breaths and low grunts, clearly enjoying himself. 

You can hear small wet noises coming from under the sheets and you can't hold your curiosity any longer. You gently lift up the sheets and a gasp escapes your parted lips as you see Negan's erection heavily laying in your small hand, the tip of it is a pretty soft pink and it's shinning with pre-cum that's dripping down on your hand and you carefully go back to moving it up and down, spreading the sticky liquid all over him before looking up at his face.

" **I** t's so p-pretty." you say with red cheeks as you look into Negan's eyes.

" **Y** ou're fucking killing me, baby girl." his breaths are getting faster and faster and so is the movement of your hand, you just let it naturally happen, you don't really control it and you don't really care, you just want to please Negan right now and, damn, you're doing it.

" **F** ucking - holy shit - fuck." he starts to let out a dictionary worth of curses, his eyes closing and his head digging further into his pillow as you carefully watch it all happen, you don't have a damn clue as to what's happening but it sure as shit is happening.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you feel a hot, sticky liquid running directly down on your fingers and you quickly look down as Negan keeps on cursing his heart out, to see a white, thick looking, liquid spurt right out of him in long stripes to land all over his tummy and your hand.

" **A** -are you okay? Did I- I, no- Did I hurt you?" you say completely panicked as tears fill your eyes again, the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

" **H** ell no, shit, you didn't hurt me, baby." he pauses to catch his breath and reaches into his bedside table, getting a box a tissues out of it before wiping himself clean and cleaning your hand as well. He carelessly throw the used tissues on the floor and slides his briefs back on, looking completely spent, "Remember when we had a lil' fun in your room three days ago?" you slowly nod your head, your cheeks burning at the memory, and Negan wipes a tear off your face, "Well that's exactly what happened to me except that you didn't see it happen 'cause I busted in my fuckin' jeans last time, baby girl. That's why I kept that shit covered but curiosity killed the cat, hey?" he teases with an amused smile.

" **I** 'm sorry, I j-just really wanted t-to see."

" **S** 'okay baby, don't worry, I didn't do it for me, I did it for you." he eyelids are getting heavy and so are yours, your tummy feels even worse now but you don't mention it, you just keep it to yourself.

The lights in the room are turned off and, directly after, you feel Negan's arms bringing you into his chest, his right hand creeping underneath your shirt to come rest on your tummy and he smiles when he doesn't feel you tensing or trying to get away from him.

" **S** leep tight, angel face." he whispers, kissing your neck, undoing your bun and resting his head back down as his thumb gently rubs random patterns on the soft skin of your tummy.

" **G** ood night, daddy." you say with a small smile resulting in Negan chuckling against your neck and pushing you closer to him before you both fall deeply asleep.

It's an odd feeling but, for the first time since what feels like forever, you're looking forward to tomorrow and it's a welcome change, no matter how stress inducing it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're valid, don't you ever forget that, I'll fucking kick your ass if I have to.  
> Your sexuality is valid, the gender you identify as makes you a hundred percent valid, your religion is valid, your believes are valid, your opinions are valid and, god damn, your emotions are valid. You're not under-reacting nor overreacting, you're not oversensitive nor insensitive, you're not too happy nor too sad, you're not too talkative nor too shy and you are not defined by the way people see you, the mental disorder or physical decease/disability you might suffer from, your weight, height or your skin color.
> 
> HELLOOOOOOOO LIL ANGELS, I HOPE YOU'RE ALL DOING AMAZING.  
> SO, LIL STORY, IT'S CURRENTLY 3:30 AM WHERE I LIVE AS I'M POSTING THIS SO, YES, I DID PROOFREAD BUT THERE'S SOME MISTAKES IN THERE JUST WAITING TO STAB ME IN THE BUTT SO, YEAH, I'LL CHECK BACK ON THE WHOLE THING MORNING WHEN I'LL BE RESTED AND MY EYES WON'T BE KILLING ME.  
> I REPEAT NOT TO BE A MEAN CREATURE IF THERE'S SOME REALLY STUPID AND OBVIOUS AND MISSPELLED THINGS IN THERE OKAY, I SHALL DESTROY MY OWN ASS WITH REALLY RUDE SELF-LOATHING THOUGHTS WHEN I'LL LOOK BACK ON THIS CRAP SO, YES, DO NOT WORRY, I SHALL PAY FOR MY DUMB MISTAKES.  
> ANYWAY! So... smut hey? Ok, cool, glad we had this conversation.  
> I love you, stay safe pretty please.


	11. Turned To Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so! This chapter was super hard for me to write, I just wasn't happy with it, never, I kept on erasing it and starting over, there was always something wrong with it and even now I'm not a hundred percent happy with it, at all.  
> Also, it might seem like a long time since I've last upload but, the thing is; I've uploaded chapter ten way too early because I absolutely hated with ninth chapter with a burning passion so I had to put something that I actually was proud of out there. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this chapter and, yeah, I love you all!

**6:45** **AM** **//**

Your eyes slowly flutter open, rays of sunlight invading the room as memories of the night before hit you like a rock, panic taking over you as you remember falling asleep in Negan's arms, in his bed, and a knot forms in your stomach.

" **W** hat is wrong with me?" you whisper as you slowly sit down on the mattress you're on, directly shoving your head into your hands.

You don't know what you feel guilty for exactly but you can name a few things; the fact that he sweet talked you back in his arms again, the fact that you completely gave in to him and the fact that none of the issues you two have has been solved in the sightliest.

You carefully take your head out of your shaking hands, not really ready to face what happened last night and especially not Negan. Your eyebrows furrow in pure confusion as you look around and realize that you're not in the room you were locked in last night or in the bed you recall falling asleep in, no, you're under warm blankets, in **your** own bed, in **your** bedroom.

_what the hell?_

You look around, confused as to what's going on, tears of pure panic filling your eyes for a reason you can't seem to identify, when you spot a small piece of paper neatly folded on your nightstand, waiting for you to open and read it. You quickly grab it with a shaky hand and open it.

" **Didn't want to wake you up, baby girl, so I had Simon carry you back to your bedroom before the girls woke up.**  
**Nothing personal, doll, I just don't have the fucking time to deal with that kind of drama.**  
- _ **Negan**_ **.** "

You feel your stomach tightening, your whole body aching and your eyes filled to the brim with tears again. He didn't want drama? He fucking had Simon bringing you back to your bedroom whilst you were asleep? What the hell is wrong with this man?

You close your hand on the piece of paper and throw it on the floor before burying your head in your pillow and letting a loud scream of frustration and pain out into it as the soft fabric slowly gets soaked with your tears.

Sure, you were anxious about waking up next to him and having to face him after what happened last night and, sure, you didn't know if you actually wanted to have a conversation with him about it or if you would chicken out and resolve to going back to the hell-ish, messy and unhealthy relationship you two seem to be stuck in but what you do know is that; the way **he** handled it makes you feel more vulnerable and gross than you've ever felt in your entire life.

_seems like he took that decision for ya if you ask me, darling... you should've listen to me when I was literally screaming at you to fucking stop, you have a god damn conscience and it ain't here to hurt ya, quite the opposite actually._

You let out a small sigh of defeat as you realize that you, indeed, did not listen to your own protests last night and you feel like the price that you're paying for it right now- Well, it wasn't worth it, not at all.

You feel asleep so peacefully last night, you actually were even kind of looking forward to tomorrow but, now that tomorrow turned into today, you wish that none of what happened yesterday happened but it doesn't change the fact that it did and now you're left on your own to deal with pure guilt, anger and disgust because you can't even blame him for letting it happen since you recall being the one practically begging for it.

You let out a deep sigh, trying to find some courage and strength to get up and go take your morning shower but it's proving to be a really hard thing to do for you this morning.

It's not the first time you have to literally drag yourself out of bed, staying in bed all day and oversleeping being symptoms of depression, you've been dealing with that exact same situation over and over again but, today? It seems to be painfully complicated for you to actually push yourself over that fence.

" **I** can't do this anymore." you whisper to yourself, your lower lip shaking.

A soft knock on your door makes you jump and you quickly dry your tears with your hands before hesitantly making your way to your door and slowly opening it, not too eager to talk or even see anyone at all today.

" **W** akey wakey! How's my favorite lil' shit doin' today?" Simon says with a big smile as he leans against the frame of your door, making sure that it stays open.

" **H** -hi Simon." you say, looking down at your hand, trying to avoid eye contact as you remember Negan's note saying that Simon was the one who brought you back to your room last night.

" **H** ey, look," he leans a small bit towards you, quickly looking around before putting his eyes back on your flushed face, "I ain't here to judge shit, okay? Hell, I don't really give a fuck about what happened between you two, so, let's just relax a lil' bit, yeah? You're so tense I could use you as a plank to smack a bitch."

You let out a small giggle at his odd choice of words, your hands nervously pulling at the hem of your t-shirt, " **O** -okay, th-thank you."

" **L** ike I said, none of my fucking business, pumpkin. Alright!" he claps his hands together, making you look up at him, " **T** oday's schedule! I heard that you take a shower every damn morning so, go do that, get dressed, then you'll go eat somethin' and wait outside in the main yard, I'll tell you what's there to do around the damn place, go it?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to answer and you do with a small nod of your head, " **T** hatta girl. Catch ya later, pumpkin."

You look a mess but you know that a shower is the best of remedy for you right now so, you quickly look left and right, making sure that no one is walking around in the long corridor leading to the bedrooms and to the communal showers and, once you decide that the coast is clear, you make a run for it.

You try to stay as quiet as possible not to wake anyone up but you can hear Simon's big voice booming through the hallways as he yells " **R** ise and fucking shine, it's fucking morning kids!" which is kind of funny to you but also makes your whole "let's not make a single noise and be nice to the sleeping people" attitude completely irrelevant.

 

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You thank your lucky stars as you make your way to the showers without coming across anyone and quickly undress before entering the cabin you usually take your shower in, letting the water warm up a bit before going right under the spray and letting the hot water hit your body, sighing as your muscles finally relax a bit.

_maybe, just maybe, you needed things to go that far with him just to realize that he's no good at all. maybe, just maybe, now you're gonna be able to move on from him. after all, your life has been nothing but messy ever since he came into it._

After a good thirty minutes, you turn the water off and wrap a big towel around your shaking body, quickly dry your hair and brushing your teeth before grabbing the black t-shit and the pair of undies you came in with, bunching them up into a ball against your chest before walking back to your room as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself.

You open the door of your bedroom and let out a relieved sigh as the door clicks shut but your relief is quickly replaced by a huge heart attack as you turn around and see Randall sitting on your mattress, a smile on his face, as a squeal leaves your mouth and you drop the pile of clothes you've been holding, your blind panic making him laugh.

" **O** H MY FREAKING GOD! RANDALL, WHAT THE HELL?!" you grip your towel tightly as you become hyper-aware of the fact that that's the only thing hiding your birthday suit from him right now and grab your pillow to throw it at his face angrily, " **Y** ou- You suck! You're the worst, what the frack?!"

He holds your pillow against his chest tightly as he keeps on laughing, tears rolling down his face as his laughter goes completely out of control which causes you to smile against your will and, eventually, a giggle, then a genuine laugh, rolls out of your mouth and you end up laughing along with him.

" **Y** ou're a prick."

" **Y** ou love me, princess."

" **N** o, I don't, I hate you actually. I almost peed myself because of you."

" **A** w, poor lil' [y/n], I'm so mean to you." he whines with a pout, clearly mocking you.

" **Y** eah, you are, you're the worst."

He smiles and stands up before pointing down at your bed, " **I** just wanted to bring you some new clothes, pretty girl, seriously didn't mean to scare the shit outta you like that... Even though that definitely made my day, gotta admit."

" **O** h, shush." you pout and punch his shoulder in a friendly manner before taking a look at the pile of clothes, " **R** andall, this tank top is yours and," you pull out a pair of dark denim jeans, "those are as well, why are you giving me your clothes, what about you?"

" **D** on't worry about me, I have a bunch of those, I just- y'know," he nervously scratches the back of his head, " **I** was on laundry duty yesterday and I noticed that you only have, like, four decent clothes and the rest are just pieces of tissue with holes, so, I thought, maybe... I mean-"

" **T** hank you." you smile and hug him, forgetting about your nudity for a second to hold him tightly against you, " **A** aaand now we're stuck like this forever 'cause I'm not holding my towel anymore and if you pull away it'll fall and I'll explode, so, yeah, you're stuck with me, buddy."

" **S** ounds like a pretty good deal to me." he laughs against the top of your head before leaning down to gently kiss your forehead, " **I** 'll cover my eyes, grab your towel and pull away, promise I won't peak." he closes his eyes tightly, making his eyebrows furrow, and actually covers his eyes with both of his hands too to seal the deal and you quickly get a small grip on your towel, pull away and turn around before wrapping the soft fabric around your now dry body.

" **T** hanks." you say, signaling to him that you're covered.

" **H** i." he says with a small laugh as he lets his hands fall from his eyes and blinks a couple of times to readjust to the light in the room.

" **H** i." you answer with a small smile but the sadness in your voice doesn't go unnoticed by Randall.

" **H** ey, what's going on, princess?" he asks, worry filling his voice.

" **I** uh- Randall-" a single tear escapes your eyes, " **S** orry I just uh- Today's just one of those days, y'know? I'm just- Just a bit down, sorry."

_we're leaving, tell him we're leaving for god's sake!_

" **S** omething happened?"

_negan happened._

" **N** o, no, just- Just a bad day, that's all, really."

He looks at you, not sure if he can actually believe what you're saying. He knows that you have your very own ways to express yourself, your own ways to show affection, anger and sadness which is something he absolutely loves about you. He loves that nothing about you is similar to anyone else but he also knows that you need your privacy and he completely respects it, he won't be the one crossing that line and make you uncomfortable on purpose, he doesn't want that.

You're a really tough book to open, let alone read, and, to a lot of people, you're like a puzzle with a bunch of missing pieces. While some are afraid of that, it also tends to attract people's attention to you because some set their minds on "figuring you out" like you're some freaking Pokémon or some shit, which you hate.

" **A** lright then- I uh- I'm gonna let you get dressed then... Catch you for breakfast?" he asks almost shyly, not sure if you actually want anyone's company today.

" **Y** eah, f'course, breakfast sounds great. Just uh- lemme get dressed and, yeah, I'll join you at the cafeteria."

" **A** wesome," he smiles and quickly gives a small peck to your forehead.

He leaves your room and you quickly grab a pair of underwear, a small squeal of excitement accidentally escaping you when you spot a pair of Batman boxers in your dresser and you quickly put them on with a simple, plain, black bra before putting Randall's black, ripped jeans on.

You reach for his tank top and smile when you spot the Nirvana yellow smiling face on the black-ish fabric and you throw it over your head, get your arms in each, way too big, armpit sleeves, blushing when you realize your sides are only halfway covered, about half of your ribcage showing on both sides.

You shrug it off and lean forward for your hair to fall upward and swiftly tie them in a tight braid before going back up and twirling the braid into a bun on top of your head, some smaller hair still floating loosely around your face but you don't mind them.

As you make your way out of your room, you see that Negan's note, which you scrambled and threw on the floor earlier on, is now in the small garbage-can sitting in the corner of your bedroom and your hands start to shake as you realize that Randall must have seen it while he was waiting for you to come back from your shower.

_please, tell me he didn't read that... for the love of fuck..._

You don't actually know if he's read the note or not but it doesn't sooth you at all because, for all you know, the chances that he actually did read it are pretty damn high. Because, hell, when were things ever easy for you?

" **U** gh, set me on fire and throw me in a freaking pit." you mumble quietly to yourself as you get out of your bedroom with a loud sigh filled with complete despair.

You try to shut your overthinking mind down as you head down to the cafeteria, trying not to think about what Randall might or might not know about, trying not to think about how you got royally fucked over by Negan **again**. At this point, really, you're just trying get to point A to B without losing your mind in the meantime. 

But, as you finally come closer and closer to the kitchen and the cafeteria, awfully familiar, irritating giggles assault your ears. You keep heading down to the cafeteria but, right as you pass the kitchen, you spot Negan leaning over one of his "wives" as she's leaning against the wall behind her in the middle of the corridor, a tray full of food in her hands, as he says god knows what to her with a slight smirk on his lips. You don't want to know what he's saying to her to be honest, you feel sick and there's tears rushing to your eyes yet again.

You quickly swallow your tears back and get yourself together before you actually let out a sob or even worse; throw up. Your arms protectively wrap themselves up around your shaking frame as your mind tries to fight off all of the dark thoughts suddenly running through it as they're trying to push you to blow a fuse, to take all of your frustration, anger and sadness out on you again like they always do.

_just keep going straight._

Your mind is a mess of positive thoughts and really dark ones fighting for your attention, trying to get to you first, the bad ones want to get to you first to cut you deep as the good ones want to get to you first to keep you from blaming yourself like you always do, like your depression always forces you to.

You have to get to the cafeteria but you can't do so without passing Negan and his "wife" and for an instant you feel like digging a hole into the ground and crawling your way under the compound to the cafeteria but, as it's completely impossible, you settle for just going for it.

_you just look straight forward, you don't pay attention to him or to her and don't you dare cry, you've already cried enough for him._

Easier said than done though. Negan is quick to grab your forearm as you're trying to walk right past him, your head down and tears still filling your eyes.

He literally tells his "wife" to " _get back in his quarters and drop his fucking tray in his office and get the hell out right after._ " before bringing his attention fully back to you and looking at you up and down, frowning when he spots Randall's clothes on you.

He can't get you to look at him and you keep on pulling at his arm, trying to get him to let go of you but he's not moving, not even a little bit, " **D** on't be mad at me, baby girl." he as the actual nerves to demand with a smirk, clearly amused by what he presumes to be your jealousy but it's not, at least not completely, it's mostly pain and insecurity.

He lets out a sigh, running low on patience, when your only answer to him is complete silence and a simple shrug of your shoulders, your head still looking down.

" **L** ook, doll, I get it. You like having daddy all to yourself but, shit, I can't just let the others in a corner, that's not how I do shit around here."

" **Y** 'know what-" you start, feeling like you're about to snap at him and he's bracing himself for it as well but, to both of yours and his surprise, the only thing to come out of your mouth afterwards is a sigh of defeat and fatigue as you force a small smile and slowly look up at him with that awful fake smile painted on your tired face, your eyes filled with sadness, " **I** know you have your own ways around here, your own rules and all. I don't have any issues with that, boss." you state in a calm voice and you're confused at your own behavior, it feels like you've finally got pushed around for too long and your body and mind are reacting in a very worrying way, your behavior is almost too polished, " **H** ave a good day, sir." you finish with a frown and tears in your eyes.

His attitude is like poison, it's suffocating you and making your body ill. You can't believe he actually had you sent back to your room in the middle of the night... Actually, yes, you can and that's the worst part. What's so unreal to you is that you actually thought that he was a decent man for a minute, you fucked yourself over big time but are you really to blame?

It seems like the two of you just can't get it right, the problem doesn't come from you though, no. Why should you be patient with a man that clearly doesn't even try to deserve you? Why should you always excuse his actions? Why do you always have to be the one getting hurt? This isn't fair at all and it's hurting you.

_don't think about it, don't think about it, please, we can't handle that shit anymore._

" **Y** our lil trips out of the compound?" Negan's voice booms behind you, " **T** hat shit is over." his cold voice makes you stop in your steps and turn back around to face him again.

_he did not just do that._

" **E** -excuse me?" you ask with furrowed eyebrows, your vision completely blurred by tears now.

" **Y** 'fucking heard me, [y/n]. From now on, your ass is staying in this goddamn compound where I can keep an eye on you, whether you like it or not. No more lil' walks in the woods, not after the shit you've pulled last night. I don't do second chances." he says firmly before walking away, whistling, leaving you standing there, your fists clenched and your jaw tight.

_how fucking dare he? he wants to talk about the shit you've pulled last night? how about the shit he's pulled? oh, and of course, let's not forget the wonderful "i don't do second chances" . bitch, you gave him more than four fucking chances! what the hell! does he seriously expects you to just sit around and listen to him? fuck that! you're not his fucking dog._

After that, you don't turn back around to head down to the cafeteria, oh no. Instead, you directly go back to "your" room. There's no way in hell you're staying one more day here and you don't care if you have to snap some necks to achieve your goal, you've decided that you'll get out and get the fuck out you sure as shit will.

 

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You push the door of your bedroom open and quickly close before walking up to the wooden chest that keeps everything you own safe. You open it and messily shove your belongings in your denim backpack, stopping for a small second when you spot the GameBoy you've found back at the church but you quickly snap out of your little reverie, shove the device in your back and close the zipper before shoving it on your back.

You can't help the small smile that seems to be stuck on your face as you tug your butterfly knife in the waistband of your jeans, adrenaline cursing through your veins, eager to get your freedom back, eager to get back to being your own person and not someone's toy.

" **A** lright," you say with a small sigh as you look down at the watch wrapped around your right wrist, "it's only eight, Simon should still be making sure that everyone is awake and ready... Yeah, I have enough time."

Truth be told, you don't want to hurt anyone, you just want to leave and go back to the somewhat peaceful life you used to live out there. You're really hoping that Negan didn't actually already tell his men not to let you go out anymore because, if he did, things are gonna have to get a little messy and you don't want that.

_you can't tell Randall nor Connor nor Faith about what you're about to do, it'll only get them in trouble when Negan'll find out that you're gone but... they deserve a goodbye at least, don't ya think?_

You open your nightstand, grab the black pen sitting in it and grab the note Negan left you last night out of the trash, you flip it over and write a small note to your friends on the back of the bunched up paper.

" _ **I'm sorry, I truly am. I love you guys so freaking much, please, take care of yourselves.**_

_**Stay safe, please, please, please.** _

_**I love you all so much, thank you for everything. I'm so sorry, I just can't do this anymore.** _  
_**Please don't be mad at me.** _

_**-[y/n].**_ " 

You look at the piece of paper and tightly hold it, guilt filling your heart but you push through it.

Adjusting your backpack on your shoulder, you grab your bow and head towards the bedroom's door, jumping out of your boots when said door swings open, revealing Negan, Lucille on his shoulder and a smirk on his face. You quickly shove the note you've wrote in the back pocket of your jeans with a shaky hand.

_fucking fucker fuck!_

" **Y** ou goin' somewhere lil' one?" he asks as he leans against the frame of the open door, making your blood boil.

" **J** ust going to the main yard like Simon told me to." you answer with a voice filled with bitterness.

He steps inside the room and closes the door with the heel of his boot, making it slam against the threshold, the loud sound making you jump a little. He sighs when you refuse to make eye contact with him and ends up grabbing your face to force you to look up at him, " **Y** ou're going out with me and the boys today so, let's make a deal, yeah, princess?"

" **I** 'm good." you say through gritted teeth, trying to turn your head but his grip on your jaw tightens and a dry chuckle comes out of his mouth as you do so.

" **P** rove me that you can fucking behave like a good girl while we're out there and I'll reconsider letting you go out on your own again." he smirks when he sees your eyes light up at the suggestion even though you try your hardest to hide it, " **H** ow 'bout it, baby girl? Wanna show me how good you can be?"

" **N** o." you say with a tired voice, exhausted by his mind games, you just want to get the hell out of this place. You don't have shit to prove to him.

An angry snarl comes out of Negan's mouth, making you shiver in the worst way possible, " **Y** ou wanna run that by me again?"

" **I** said no." you harshly take his hand away from your jaw and take a few steps back from him, your small hands clenched into fists, " **I** 'm done with you and I'm done with your sick games and your sweet talking! You're horrible to me and I didn't ask for any of this, okay? I didn't ask for your men to drag me out of my little life to bring me to you and I sure as shit didn't ask for the things you do to me!" you let out a scoff and look at him, " **Y** ou're gonna have to kill me, Negan." a sob comes out of your mouth as you let out a small bit of your frustration and sadness out.

He doesn't say a damn thing, just leaves your room and slams the door behind him, making you jump and sob some more. This whole situation is hurting you really badly and God knows you don't need that in your life, you've already been though so much, this isn't fair.

 

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 **8:50** **AM** **//**

You drag yourself out to the main front yard, your feet as well as your heart feeling like they're weighting a freaking ton. You dried any tears off of your face, trying really hard to cover up the fact that, after Negan left your room, you've cried for about thirty minutes in a row into your pillow.

You're frustrated, frustrated that Negan kept you from going anywhere, frustrated of what he's putting you through, frustrated because of the things he makes you feel, you're frustrated at yourself for actually thinking that he gave a shit about you when he clearly doesn't give two shits about anyone but himself.

" **M** orning you sorry fucks! Hope you all had a decent night of sleep, I sure as shit did." his cocky smirk appears on his lips the second your head snaps up when he mentions his night.

_is he fucking serious? fuck you._

You turn around, ignoring Randall's hand when he tries to keep you from walking away as he knows damn well that it'll piss Negan off and he doesn't want to get in trouble. You start to head back inside, tears filling your eyes as you feel like Negan is getting such a kick out of embracing you in front of everyone.

It doesn't matter that no one else but the two of you- and Simon - and maybe Randall- knows about what happened last night and that no one made any connection between you and Negan because one; _you_ freaking know and two; you know that everyone understood that he was talking about sex anyway even though they don't know with who and it hurts you, way more than it should because it actually shouldn't.

" **Y** ou got somewhere to be, lil miss?" you hear Negan say behind you so you turn back around and look at him. As always, he's standing in front of everyone and they're all standing up but it's only because he gave them permission to, " **H** ell, with all the shit goin' on around here, you never even introduced yourself to me, doll." he says with a smile as he, for some reason, acts as if he doesn't fucking know you.

_oh, so you wanna play._

" **W** ell, you've done well so far without knowing my name, so, let's keep it that way." you answer coldly even though you're hurt, you're not willing to let him break you any further than he already has.

" **F** eisty, I like that." he answers with a somewhat cold smile.

" **R** eally? No, 'cause, by the looks of it, it seems like you're more into dumb, brainless bitches that can't do shit to save their lives and who only sit on their bony asses all day long and don't help around the compound whilst your men risk their lives to bring them back fucking nail polish."

There's a long silence, no one dares to say a thing as they're not used to see anyone talking back to Negan nor push his buttons like you're doing right now.

A menacing laugh comes out of the very back of Negan's throat as he swiftly swings Lucille on his shoulder, looking straight at you as he's doing so. You actually feel scared this time, you've done a lot of things that Negan would never let slide with anyone else; you talked back to him, fucking spat on him, ran away and disobeyed him multiple times but never have you snap at him in front of all of his men and his eyes are enough for you to understand that you really fucked up this time.

" **A** lright, then." he says with a grin but you know better than to take comfort in his sudden mood swing, " **L** et's get this fuck show on the road, kids! Let's fucking go." he walks towards you, whistling with a smile on his face still, Lucille on his shoulder and you find yourself backing up as he gets closer and closer to you.

His men are all getting ready, loading the trucks and getting in as Negan finally gets a hold of you and tightly grips your wrist making you wince in discomfort but he completely ignores your complain and brings your body flush against his, firmly keeping you against his chest.

" **O** h, I'm gonna have a fucking blast with you, princess. I swear to fucking God you'll fucking think twice next time before running your goddamn pretty lil' mouth like that again."

You don't have time to say anything, hell, you don't actually have anything to say anyway, as he starts to drag you towards his truck before literally shoving you in the passenger side. Your eyes are filled with tears that you won't allow yourself to let go of, not with him around. He climbs in the vehicle and slams the door of the driver's seat shut before signaling for Simon to open the gate to let him through.

You have no idea where you're supposed to be going today as neither Simon or Negan gave anyway clear information but you're stressed out just because of what Negan just said to you.

 

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**11:00** **AM** **//**

Two hours, that's how much time you've spend in this damn truck with Negan for only company when it all _finally_ comes to a stop right at the entrance of a forest.

" **W** hat the-" you quietly whisper as you take a peek out of your window and spot five people kneeling on the ground, some of Negan's men surrounding them, including Dwight.

" **C** 'mon, sweet thing, let get this shit over with so we can go back home and I can deal with you properly."

_no, no thanks. fuck that, actually._

You hesitantly jump out of the big truck, your eyes directly going to the crying people kneeling on the hard ground and you feel your heart breaking in half at the sight of them. They all look so terrified and tired.

Negan snaps you out of your contemplation when he grips your wrist tightly and drags you along with him only to come to a stop right in front of the line up of people. He puts his body in front of yours, keeping you slightly behind him, and puts on a big, quite frankly terrifying grin as he swigs Lucille around carelessly, Simon taking place right at the end of the line up before looking up at Negan, waiting for him to say something.

" **W** ell, ain't this a fuckin' predicament! You guys fucked up real bad, y'know that?" he kneels, leaving you uncovered as you lose the height of him to cover you, and uses Lucille to keep himself balanced, " **I** really though that you people fucking understood when I said half your shit and none fucking less." he lets out a dangerous laugh and gets back up as you stand back and watch the scene unfold in front of you with narrowed eyes, the hair at the back of your neck standing on ends as the feeling of dread in your guts keeps on growing stronger and stronger.

" **N** -Negan we- we don't have a-anything l-left we re-really tried-"

" **A** nd you fucking failed my friend!" Negan cuts him off with a laugh, his body leaning back, Lucille getting right in front of the poor, crying man's face as he does.

He slowly turns around to look straight at you and gestures for you to come over to him with his head but you're completely frozen in place. You see him tilting his head and you're quick to comply when you can clearly see that his eyes are way darker than they usually are and it scares the life out of you.

The second you're within his reach, he gets a grip on your left forearm and you try to whine in pain as his rough grasp pulls at your stitches as he wanks you right in front of him, putting his right arm around your waist to firmly keep you in place against him.

" **A** in't she the prettiest thing you've ever laid your goddamn eyes on?" he smiles and tilts his head slightly to look at you, " **G** uess what? She's mine, all fuckin' mine." he says, his voice feral and low, " **S** he's my new favorite lil toy and- Well," he lets out yet another cold chuckle, "she's a disobedient one, y'know. She just can't fucking help it, she just keeps on fuckin' talking back and misbehaving so, today? I had an amazing idea, like, the best idea ever, y'know? And I figured, why not punish them both at the same fucking time! Y'know kill two birds with one stone and all that crap." Negan slowly lets go of you and forces you to look at him, " **I** sn't daddy just the most fucking creative son of a bitch there is, baby girl?" he kisses your forehead and, for the first time, you feel like throwing up at the gesture. It's not a sweet kiss, no, it's a kiss filled with venom and bad intentions.

Lucille appears right in front of your face, making you jump slightly and making your throat close violently.

" **N** ow, be a good girl and hold that for me, yeah?" he smiles as he hands you his bat and you take it with an heavily shaking hand.

" **W** h-"

" **P** ick one and bash his fucking head in for me, baby girl. Hell, you can even pick a chick if you wanna."

_no. fucking. way._

You close your eyes tightly as a tear escapes your eyes and your body starts to shake. You can feel everyone's eyes on you including the ones belonging to the people kneeling down next to you, " **I** -I ca-can't-" you whisper, trying to form a proper sentence but this is all you manage to choke out.

You feel Negan's hands gripping your shoulders and re-positioning you just for you to find yourself facing the line up of people when your eyes open, a violent sob ripping through your body, making your stomach churn and your head spin.

" **I** want you to take all of your anger, your frustration and your sadness out on one of them, baby doll. I know there's a lot of bad things going on in that pretty head of yours, let 'em the fuck out." he whispers in your ear but he speaks loudly enough for everyone to hear him loud and clear.

You only shake your head left and right at his words and bring your shoulders up as much as you can as you shrink in on yourself. You want to cover your ears, curl up into a ball and cry until you eventually pass out. You want the ground to swallow you.

Your head is still shaking left and right, your body shaking like crazy and your eyes are letting all of your tears out making your face look like a broken sink.

" **B** oss-" Simon starts, clearly not all that okay with what's going on here.

" **P** ick one, now. Fucking do it or I'll get one of my men to kill them one by one until you decide to fucking to as you're goddamn told, [y/n]." he says through gritted teeth and you feel like you're about to collapse.

" **H** -Hey, it's- it's okay, kiddo. Y-you do what you gotta d-do." the man kneeling right at your feet says with a slight smile and it only makes you even more upset. " **G** o on, might as well pick me, I- I don't have anyone waiting for me back h-home, I- I've only been part of this g-group for t-three weeks."

None of them deserves to die, especially not like that. Slaughter by Lucille, that's no way to go. But you have a choice to make, either kill this one innocent, terrified man right now or wait until Negan starts asking his men to go on a killing marathon just for you be forced to kill someone anyway, the only difference is that; there won't "only" be one victim then.

" **T** hree, two-"

" **N** o, no, no! I-I'll d-do it." you cut him off in his count down with a shaking voice.

" **A** tta girl." he replies with a smirk that makes you want to bash his fucking head in instead of an innocent man's.

You weakly lift Negan's bat up and sadly look down at the man in front of you as he gives you a small nod with a tight smile.

" **I** t's okay. It's not you, I know." he whispers to you, trying to reassure you but, hell, you're about to kill him.

" **I** -I'm so-sorry." you choke out, tightly shut your eyes and swing the barb wire covered part of Lucille right against his left temple, not killing him but making severe damages as you hear people next to him cry, you're making them cry, you're killing somebody.

You bring the bat down on him again and again, repeating that you're sorry, and, finally, after five swings, his head is nothing but pulp. 

You open your eyes and quickly drop Lucille on the ground as you look down at what you've just done, tears falling from your eyes, silent sobs make your stomach clench. Your body is shaking so much that it comes to the point where it's not able to support you anymore and you fall on your knees on the hard ground, putting your forehead in the dirt and blood covered ground, coughing as you choke on dust and your own tears.

You're not sure what's happening around you, you hear the buzzing noise of a camera next to you and Negan's voice barking out orders left and right, one of them being for Simon to bring these people back to their camp. You hear trucks driving away but you pay no mind to it all, you just keep your head in the bloody dirt beneath and keep on whispering "sorry" over and over like a broken record.

" **S** top it, baby girl." Negan says as he carefully picks you up off the ground and you don't even try to put up a fight. You're terrified, just like you used to be before all of this. " **Y** 'know why that shit happened?" you only nod your head and let out a choked sob into the crook of his neck, soaking his red scarf. " **W** hy?"

" **B** -because I m-mis-misbehaved."

" **S** 'right, you're gonna do it again or you're actually gonna start fucking listening?"

" **I** -I'll l-listen, I'll listen." you manage to choke out between a few sobs.

You feel your legs gripping his waist tighter and your hands clinging at his leather jacket as they're stuck between yours and Negan's body. You're looking for safety somewhere in his arms but you can't find it, you just can't, not after what just happened. For the first time since you've met, you're terrified of him.

" **Y** ou beat the shit outta that guy, baby girl. M'proud of you and, goddamn, you handled Lucille like a fucking pro, that was hot as hell, angel." he kisses the top of your head and you only sob violently in return, his touch not being something you crave at the moment, " **C** 'mon, let's go home, doll." he heads towards his truck but stops in his tracks when he feels you furiously shaking your head no in the crook of his neck, " **N** o? You don't wanna go home?" you shake your head again, letting him know that you don't, " **B** ut did I fucking ask, [y/n]?" you shake your head again, a sob breaking out of you again, " **T** hat's what I fucking thought, you want a repeat of what just happened? No, 'cause I still have a bunch of fuckers for you to fuck up if you want, baby doll." in response, you tightening your grip around his waist and cry in his scarf. " **G** ood girl."

 

**1:00** **PM** **//**

Your feet shakily touch the concrete ground of the compound, you close the door of Negan's truck and directly wrap yourself up into your own arms, feeling vulnerable as you feel Faith's eyes on you. She was heading towards you to greet you after she opened the gate for the trucks to come in but she stopped in her tracks when she spotted blood covering your clothes as well as your face, your eyes filled with tears and, though she doesn't know what the hell happened, she could tell that it completely broke you.

Negan is right behind you as you walk into the compound but you're abruptly stopped when his hand harshly grabs your wrist from behind, forcing you to turn around to look at him and your eyes widen when you spot the small note you've wrote this morning when you were planning to run off in his hand. You shyly try to snatch it from him but he only has to lift his arm up for his hand to be completely out of your reach.

" **Y** ou were about to fucking run away from me again, uh?"

" **N** -no-"

" **O** h, so you just like to write fucking random goodbye notes?!" he snaps at you, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth could break under the pressure.

" **I** \- I w-was upset-"

" **T** hat's not my fucking problem, girly. You don't fucking run off on me! That's fucking it."

He harshly grabs your wrist and drags you to God knows where in front of everyone but no one comes to help you. No, all they do is kneel as Negan passes by, completely ignoring them.

You end up going down a very dark staircase and you almost fall once or twice because of Negan's pace but you manage to stay standing behind him as he drags you along. You finally get off the never ending stairway only to come face to face to what looks like three awfully dark cells and you start to cry again as you realize why you're here.

" **P** -please don't- don't lo-lock me in here." you beg as you remember your mother punishing you the exact same way which ended up making you claustrophobic.

" **Y** ou gotta learn, baby girl. You can't run away from me, it's completely out of the fucking question." he says with a somewhat gentle voice.

He hardly ignores your heart-wrenching cries and puts you in your cell before locking the door as you curl yourself up into a small ball in one of the corners of the tiny, cold and dark room, crying in your knees, your body shaking in pure terror and your heartbeat quickly getting out of hand.

_he locked you up, mom used to lock us up... why do you always have to piss people off you stupid bitch._

Your bad thoughts are quickly winning over the good ones as there's literally nothing good surrounding you for your mind to grasp at the moment. Nothing about today is good, nothing at all. Or maybe, just maybe, there's the fact that you're wearing Randall's tank and that it smells like him and it's a little appeasing.

_yeah, you can also smell the blood of the poor innocent dude we killed today..._

 

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**5:00** **PM** **//**

He can't fucking believe that you tried to leave him again. The mess in his room is indescribable, his book shelf is laying on the ground, chairs are turned upside down on the carpet covered floor, there's books everywhere and he's completely out of breath, his knuckles white as he's holding Lucille tightly in his hand.

He's full of things that he can't explain or even put into words, all he knows is that you're the reason for it. You're making him lose his damn mind and he hates it just about as much as he loves it and craves it. He knows that he fucked up again and it pisses him off. He doesn't understand his own behavior and he even came to realize that even is formal wife, Lucille, wouldn't have had half as much patience as you do with him.

He never was poisonous with her like he is with you and he can't help but think that it might be because he actually truly feels something for you and, this time, he has to face it, he is the one **forcing** you to stay under the same roof as him after all.

He hates having you far from him, he hates not having you in his sight, he hates not being able to touch you, he hates not being able to tease you until he can see your cheeks turn that deep crimson red he loves so much on you, he just hates not having you around and he hates that he feels this way.

He's so caught up in his thoughts and his anger that he doesn't even realize that Faith has entered his room until he hears her clearing her throat.

" **W** hat the hell are you doing he-"

" **S** he just can't catch a motherfuckin' break, can't she?" she snaps, cutting him off, " **A** fter all she's been pushed through, all the fucked up shit she was forced into, she still can't catch a fuckin' break, Negan?"

" **W** atch the way you fucking speak to me, Faith." he says through gritted teeth.

" **N** o, fuck that. Her body is already having a hard time recovering and now she must have one hell of a fucking war in her head as if she fucking needed this shit!"

" **W** hat d'that have to fucking do with me, uh?." he asks through gritted teeth, though he knows damn well what it has do to with him. 

" **Y** ou're so fucking full of shit, Negan."

" **E** x-fucking-cuse me? D'you bump your fucking head or something?"

" **S** he deserves better, she understood that and she fucking tried to leave again 'cause she realized that, this place? It ain't it, Negan."

" **W** hat she fucking needs is a fucking roof above her fucking head, food in your goddamn stomach and a fucking comfortable bed to fucking sleep in instead of being out there risking her fucking life like a dumbass!"

" **Y** eah, she does deserve all that, but, guess what? She can get it all by herself 'cause she's fucking smart like that. She's more of a fighter than all of us ever will be and y'know what else, Negan? She also can fucking get all that if she just goes and finds herself a nice group filled with people that actually give a shit about her instead of being stuck in this huge ass compound with only three people to go to when there's hundredth of us living under the same damn roof. Call her a dumbass one more fucking time, go ahead and see what happens."

" **W** hat the fuck's gotten into you? D'you have a death wish or something, don't fucking talk to me like that again."

" **H** ow many times do you think she's actually gonna take your shit, uh?" she asks, completely ignoring his words, " **Y** ou keep on fucking her up when, clearly, all she wants is to catch a fucking break from all the shit she's been through. You need to stop playing games, Negan, 'cause you're hurting the lil' one in the process and I'm seriously done with it." she looks at Negan and narrows her eyes," **I** mean- Don't you think she's had enough shit happen to her already? She deserves to be able to heal fully but the poor thing can't catch a fucking break and you always fucking make sure of that."

" **F** aith-" he starts, his jaw clenched but she cuts him off again, pissed by his behavior.

" **E** ither let her go or man the fuck up and realize that people won't look down on you if you decide to commit! You really think that having a bunch of whores around is cool? Every man's wet dream, uh? Fuck that. It's misogynist as shit, you're an asshole, get over your fucking self already. You really think people don't fucking despite you enough as it is just because of your fucking attitude and ways? Oh, but, lemme guess, Negan doesn't give a fuck about what other people think of him, right? Nah, he's too fucking cool and important for that shit. But what about her, uh? Do you actually not give a single shit about what she thinks of you? About how much she's actually hurting because of your selfishness and your pride?" she looks at Negan, her eyes softening as she lets out a small tired sigh, " **Y** ou know I fucking care about your stupid ass, so, please, make it right, Negan. I know you're not the big bag wolf you're always playing nowadays. I get it, you have actually legit reasons to act the way you do with your workers, but a fucking harem? It ain't you, you're an asshole, sure, but that's fucking disgusting even for you." she slowly turns around and leaves her hand on the door knob before adding without turning around to look at him, " **S** he can be your little exception, Negan. She deserves to feel special, she really fucking does and if you're not gonna be able to handle it then leave her the fuck alone. You're afraid to lose your pride and power around the fucking place if you actually show the lil' baby that you care for her? Yeah, fucking up is what you're doing alright. She isn't like the stupid bitches who decided to let you pamper them twenty-four-seven and occasionally let you fuck 'em, Negan. She actually doesn't need you to pamper her but she sure as shit deserves to be, she doesn't want to take advantage of you or your status and, goddamn, she takes a lot of shit from you, more than Lucille ever did- sorry for bringing her up by the way." she quietly finishes and leaves his office and closes the door, letting a deep sigh come out of her mouth the second the door clicks shut behind her.

She pieced two and two together when she saw the blood on your face, the complete emptiness in your usually so full of life eyes and Lucille baked in blood and pieces of human flesh but she didn't want to believe it, she couldn't imagine Negan doing this to you but Dwight confirmed it with a shaking voice, clearly shocked by what happened.

She hasn't seen you ever since you got out of Negan's truck and she's getting seriously worried about you. She leaves Negan's headquarters and immediately pulls out a cigarette once the door leading outside closes behind her and lights the stick up before taking a long drag out of it, her eyes fluttering shut as she does.

" **Y** 'know he's gonna blow a fuse if he catches you smoking on his doorstep, right?" Simon says with a small smile.

" **W** hat d'you let him do that?"

" **D** idn't have a fucking choice, y'know that." he answers, clearly getting what Faith is referring to.

" **L** ike hell you didn't-" she stops and lets out a sigh, "Sorry I just- I fucking care about that girl, you know?"

" **Y** eah, I mean, it's hard not to. Fuck..." he lets out a deep sigh, " **D** 'you mind?" he asks, pointing at Faith's cigarette, asking for a drag and she hands it to him without a word, " **T** hanks." he takes a long drag and passes the nicotine stick back to her, " **S** he's in one of the cells down in the basement- I can't fucking stand being in there for a goddamn second she just- she's crying her lil' heart out in there, god fucking damn it."

" **S** imon, she's fucking claustrophobic! What the fuck?! Who the fuck put her in th-"

She's cut off by the heavy door leading into their boss' quarters opening, Negan appearing quickly after, looking at his two "employees".

" **D** on't fucking smoke on my goddamn doorstep for fuck's sake, how hard is that." Faith is about to snap at him for locking you up in a tiny cell but he doesn't give her the time to do so, " **G** o get her the hell out of there." he orders her and grabs her cigarette to take a drag out of it before crushing it on the steel floor the staircase is leading up to.

He asked Dwight, Simon and even Arat to keep an eye on things but they all came back to him and told him that they couldn't stand hearing you cry in sheer panic and terror. Faith, however, is already running down the stairs before Negan finishes his sentence and quickly runs off to the basement, pushing people out of her way to rapidly get to you.

Negan knows he fucked up big time today, **again**. Forcing you to kill that man was already way out of line on his part but locking you in this cell made it all much, much worse.

Faith finally reach the cells and immediately goes to unlock the door keeping you locked up in the tiny cell you've been locked up in. She swears that she can feel her heart drop when she spots you crying and shaking like she's never seen anyone shake before, your body completely curled up on itself in the left far corner of the dark cell.

" **F** ucking- [Y/n], princess, s'okay. I'm here, you're okay, pretty girl." she gently coos as she steps inside the dark cell and makes her way to you. Once you're within her reach, she carefully grabs your shaking body to wrap you up in her arms, trying hard to calm you down but it's like your mind is completely shut down right now, your ears are buzzing, and you can't hear a single thing.

Negan took things way too far, none of this would have happened if only he'd could accept the fact that you're really special to him, he could have avoid hurting you so badly by simply not having Simon carry back to your room in the middle of the night but now the damages are done and it feels like he won't be able to pick up the pieces he broke, not this time. He crushed you so hard that there's nothing but dust, there's no whole pieces, no matter how tiny, left to pick up now.

" **C** 'mon, pretty girl, talk to me." she begs, worried about your complete silence.

She had the time to bring you all the way back to your bedroom and you still didn't make a beep, even your sobs are completely silent now, the only way she knows that they're still here is because they're making your body shake in her arms.

Your head hurts so bad from all this crying you've been doing lately, especially today, and the excessive amount of adrenaline your brain has be secreting ever since your first encounter with Negan this morning. Faith sits you on your mattress and you immediately bring your legs up to your chest, making yourself as small as physically possible and hiding your face away into knees.

" **H** ey, it's okay. You're safe, I promise." Faith tries again, her voice soft but shaky as she forces tears down, seeing like this not being something she could ever have been prepared for.

You quickly shake your head no at her words, refusing to believe that you're actually safe anywhere near Negan is anymore, not after today. But, then again, you still crave him for some reason. You want **him** to tell you that it'll be okay, you want **him** to take you in his arms and tell you that you did well today even though it was hard, you need **him** to be here and you hate yourself for it.

You slowly look up at Faith with tear filled eyes and wait for her to say something because you don't trust yourself to talk right now.

" **Y** ou want some alone time?" she asks as she carefully examines your face. It's all puffy, covered in dried blood and tears, your nose is running, your cheeks are red and your eyes are swollen.

You silently nod your head yes and she gets off the wall she was straightens back up since she was kneeling down to be able to see your face as she spoke to you, before walking out of your room without a word, she wouldn't know what to say to you anyway. She's beyond upset, she's hurt to see you like that, it fucking hurts.

You look down at your shaking hands, the noises the bat was making as it was bashing that poor man's head are filling your ears. You can't stop thinking about it, you've killed before but never like that. Ever. You never killed someone who didn't cause you any harm, it's just not right to you otherwise.

_oh, boo-ooh. stop crying and get your shit together already for fuck's sake._

" **U** gh, I need a shower." you mumble as you get off your bed and drag yourself into the showers to wash away the blood drying on your skin before heading back to your bedroom, ignoring Randall as he's standing right in front of his room to directly go into your room and change into the silky baby pink set that Negan got you when you first got here. You directly head to bed afterwards even though it's still really early.

You're done with today, you want this stupid day to go away and forget about it. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a small bit better, can't be worse that's for sure and that's all that matters, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOO! OR MORE LIKE GOODBYE SINCE THIS IS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER... ANYWAY!  
> I hope you're all doing amazing. I personally am having a little bit of a hard time with my depression, it seems like it's trying to sneak its way back on me but don't you worry, I know karate.  
> Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed the chapter - cos I didn't - and that you're having a great day or night!  
> Thank you so much for all your support by the way! It means the world to me that you guys actually enjoy my work and you never fail to make me smile so, thank you so so much for that.
> 
> OH ALSO IT'S FREAKING 4:00 AM RIGHT NOW AS I'M POSTING THIS SO, YEAH, THERE'S PROBABLY A SHIT LOAD OF MISTAKES BUT, GOD DAMN, I'LL FIX IT TOMORROW, I'M TOO TIRED AND ALIENS NEED SLEEP TOO- I MEAN HUMANS, HUMANS NEED SLEEP.
> 
> I love you, please stay safe!


	12. Venom In Her Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, so, I did not forget about you guys nor my work. My freaking computer died on me for eight days straight, I almost lost my mind (but my phone kept me sane hashtag TumblrIsMyLifeAndImProbablyGonnaDieAllAloneWhatsUp, ANYWAYS!
> 
> Here's chapter twelve, as always, I HAVE PROOFREAD THAT CRAP BUT, HEY, YOU CAN PUT GLITTER ON CRAP IT'LL STILL BE CRAP SO CALM THE FUCK DOWN, YOU ARE NOT CALM, YOU ALL SHOULD BE AS CALM AND COLLECTED AS ME.

**3:15** **AM** **//**

You've been locked in this damn shower cabin for almost an hour now, crying your heart out as blood keeps on dripping out of your wounded left forearm even though you tried to make it stop, you left it underneath the shower head and let water wash your cuts but, even though the warmth of the water actually soothed the painful throbbing going through your arm, it didn't really help with the bleeding.

So now, here you are, your arm covered in blood which is now also all over the white shower floor, your eyes puffy from all the crying you've been doing today, your whole body shaking from exhaustion, your head throbbing as a mean headache starts to take over you, your jaw snapping uncontrollably and your body is all curled up against the wall of the small cabin as you let water hit you, soaking your pajamas in the process.

You feel asleep rather quickly when you went to bed but, much to your dismay, you've been woken up at two in the morning by a mean bitch called panic attack. You ended up hurting yourself again and freaked out when you realized just how deep the cuts you inflicted yourself were, especially since you've actually managed to snap your stitches open and reopen the previous cuts that had barely started to heal, so you ran to the showers, holding your wounded arm tightly against your chest whilst keeping yourself from sobbing not to wake anyone up in the dorms.

And now you're sitting down, your legs against your chest, right underneath the running spray, as you wait for your mind to stop racing, you wait for the cries of the small group you came across today -well, technically, yesterday- to stop echoing in your head, you wait for the look of the innocent man that you've been forced to kill to fade away from your mind. At this point, it just feels like you're literally waiting for your sanity to come back to you, it feels like you're waiting for, well; yourself to snap you out of this bad trip you're having.

You're all you have and yesterday made that pretty damn clear to you.

You slowly get up from the shower floor and turn the water off before walking out of the cabin, your hair soaked and dripping all over the place just like your pretty baby pink pajama set. Blood is flowing out of your forearm to land on the cold tile-covered ground beneath your bare feet.

The smell of blood is so strong that you can literally taste it and it tastes like there's a bunch of pennies melting on your tongue but you can't bring yourself to care, it seems that you're completely numb to it all at this point.

You make your way out of the communal showers and absently walk down the long corridor leading to the bedrooms and end up in a large hall which leads to either the cafeteria and the kitchen or to the heart of the compound which leads to the outside and you really feel like having a refill on fresh air right about now.

If anyone was to stumble upon you in this instant, you're a hundred percent sure that they'll freak the hell out and try to kill you because you look like you've just came back from the dead. Your whole body is shaking, blood is profusely pouring out of your forearm and your bare feet are leaving wet prints behind you as you cross the huge opened door separating the "living" area to the rest of the compound.

It looks so big now that everyone is asleep in their bedroom and not running around the place. You look around, spot a few chains hanging from the ceiling, a small room that looks like it used to be a small office which is now full with working material and some menacing looking tools, you also notice a mean looking metal iron resting on what seems to be a barbecue gone wrong.

You walk right in the middle of the huge compound and you feel lost, you wonder what the hell you're doing here and if you'll ever be able to get back to your old life, the life that you somehow put together for yourself, the life that somehow made you happy in its very own ways.

You let out a small sigh and slightly turn your head to spot a giant staircase, right next to the small office, which leads to a big deck but, as you're about to get close to it to satisfy your curiosity, something else catches your attention; there's a wall practically covered in what seems to be polaroids and you decide to check it out but you immediately regret your decision as you finally get in front of said wall.

You were right, these are polaroids indeed but not just simple polaroids, no, those are pictures of Negan's victims, it's a real horror show.

Negan's workers have to work in this particular space for hours on ends every single day with these pictures hanging around, what's the point? Is he trying to remind them what happens to those who dare step out of line? You feel sick and it's not only because of the blood you're losing.

However, a really particular picture catches your attention and you can feel the hair on your arms and at the back of your neck rise as goosebumps come to cover your skin when you realize who's on this specific photo.

The innocent man you've been forced to kill earlier on is on that picture, his headless corpse is on that picture and Lucille is beside him, right where you dropped her before falling to your knees.

You've seen a lot of messed up shit in your life, some way before the whole world collapsed, you've done a lot of things that you didn't want to do but had to, but, being forced to kill? Having to kill an innocent man? Having to kill an innocent man that's literally forcing a smile, accepting his death to spare the group that took him in and telling you that it's okay? That's beyond messed up.

His words are coming back to you, the noises that the bat was making as it was bashing his skull into a pulp and the sobs of the rest of the survivors kneeling beside him as they were forced to watch him die in such an awful way are repeating over and over in your head like a damn broken record and you wish that you could throw the damn player out of a window.

You should be screaming in anger, ask how this is acceptable in any way, burn the damn place down but there's nothing. Not a word, not a tear, nothing at all, you're completely silent.

You take the picture off the wall with a shaky hand and slowly sit down on the cold, hard ground of the compound. Your bare thighs burning because of the coldness of the ground and hurting because of the rough concrete covering it as you sit there, legs crossed, looking down at the photo of the man you've killed, the small picture shaking in your hands.

" **I** 'm so sorry." you slowly whisper over and over again as your eyes are filling with tears, " **I** \- I wish- I just- I'm so so sorry." a sob leaves your mouth as you tightening your grip on the picture and screw your eyes shut, desperate to get a single second of calm but your head doesn't let you, it just keeps on playing the scene on repeat and it's like it's happening right in front of you, you can't escape it even with your eyes closed.

You let a few minutes pass, get back up and head back to your bedroom, the small photo still in your shaking hand, to try and get some more sleep.

You're completely drained, between your emotions being all over the place and the blood still oozing out of your forearm, it feels like no amount of sleep will ever be able to fix you at this point but you need to shut your mind up and you can only achieve that if you put it to sleep.

You crawl underneath your thick blankets, put the polaroid underneath your pillow and rest your head on it, sighing deeply as you try to take comfort in the fact that your bad thoughts can't reach you in your sleep.

Your heartbeat gently slows down and you slowly but surely start to fall into a deep and well deserved sleep.

 

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**9:00** **AM** **//**

Your eyes slowly flutter open and a small groan of protest slips past your slightly parted lips as you clumsily turn around on your back on the mattress, letting out a wince of discomfort and you realize that the blood on your forearm dried against the white mattress sheet which ended up making your wounds stick to the thin tissue.

You carefully peel your arm away from the soft fabric, praying for your wounds not to start bleeding again as you manage to pry your forearm off of the sheet covering the mattress. You take a look at the wounds and let a sigh of relief when you see that they didn't re-open, they're extremely swollen and red, the skin of the inside of your forearm is tainted with blood which doesn't really surprises you when you see the state your mattress sheet is in. You're used to all that so you don't worry about it, what you do worry about though is how you're supposed to get the freaking blood covering the spot your arm was resting all night on cleaned up without anyone on laundry duty noticing the giant deep crimson spot on the bright white sheet.

" **T** hings just don't get any easier, do they?" you quietly say to yourself with an heavy sigh following right after.

You look down at your watch and your eyes almost pop out of their socket when you see that it's 9:15, why didn't Simon wake you up? You gather the small amount of energy you have left in you and get out of the comfortable, warm bed to get dressed.

You grab a simple white t-shirt and throw a red and black flannel on top of it, making sure that your forearms are covered, before sliding into Randall's black, ripped jeans, the same you wore yesterday, and finish with a pair of plain black socks and your black combat boots.

You messily gather your hair on top of your head and put them into a messy bun all whilst walking out of your room, closing the bedroom door with your heel and directly head out to the main yard, not even bothering to go and try to have a breakfast since your stomach seems to be stuck into a huge knot anyway.

" **L** ook who's finally awake, how d'you sleep, pumpkin?" you hear Simon shout out before you spot him walking towards you with a smile and you hope that he won't comment on the fact that he most definitely just saw you completely bypass the cafeteria to directly head towards the main area of the compound.

" **H** i Simon, I uh- well, y'know, I guess I slept as good as a-anyone else does these days." you answer, nervously pulling on your fingers, giving your anxiety away.

" **S** mart answer." he chuckles and leans against the wall in front of you, blocking your way, " **W** e're having a lil' supply run this afternoon, care to join in?"

" **W** -well, I mean-" you start to panic, worried that it'll be the same kind of "supply run" as yesterday and Simon seems to quickly pick up on your panic.

" **H** ey, pumpkin, it's a simple supply run at an old factory three hours from here, nothing less," he gently grabs your chin, making you twitch involuntarily at the contact, "nothing more, I can promise you that."

You look at him for a few seconds and see nothing bad in his eyes, he seems to be genuinely honest with you right now, " **O** -okay, I'll be happy to t-tag along if-if that's okay w-with Negan."

" **O** f course I'm okay with that, baby doll." you hear Negan's voice behind Simon and he doesn't seem surprised by his boss' presence at all but the jump it gets out of you sure gives away that you are surprised by his sudden presence. All you can think about now, is that he's right there, that he freaking heard you which means that he wasn't even that far from you to begin with and feel pulled between running into his arms and seek the comfort you know only him can provide you with and letting fear eat you alive as his mere presence seems now to enough to make you freeze in fear.

You feel your body shaking violently and tears filling your eyes again as panic completely washes over you.

Never has Negan's voice scared you like it does now. You never truly feared him, you've always been more afraid of the fact that he's a man rather than the fact that he's Negan. But now? After what happened yesterday? After what you had to do last night to make it all go away? You can't see him the same way you used to and you can't even begin to understand and grasp how you used to see him to even begin with.

 

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**FLASHBACK //  TWELVE y/o OFC // THREE YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKOUT;**

Once again, you're walking home with fresh bruises and open wounds covering your upper body, your backpack being dragged along on the concrete sidewalk as your heavy feet lead you back "home".

 _Home_ , you hate that word. Probably because you never found yours. A lot of people seem to think that a house is a home but it doesn't have to be.

 _Home_ is more of a feeling to you, it can be a person or a place, hell, it can ever be a song or book.  _Home_ can be a lot of things but four walls and a roof are not what makes a home.

You stop in your steps when you hear extremely loud sirens ringing through your neighborhood.

_of course it's in front of our house, of fucking course..._

There's a bunch of police cars and an ambulance parked right in front of your house, the front door is wide open and there's people running in and out of the place. You don't even bother to try and find out what's going on, you just let go of your backpack and sit down in the grass right next to the sidewalk.

It's not the first time something like this happens, your mother gets a little too drunk sometimes and the neighbors have to call an ambulance to come and take care of her or she'd get dosed up on some really strong drugs and she'd start to do some stupid shit, angering the neighbors until they end up calling the police. You really wonder why no one ever took you away from her at this point.

It's odd though, there normally isn't so many people when your mother needs to be dealt with. Right now there's an ambulance which has its sirens blaring, and three police cars.

" **A** lright, careful now."

You hear a man's voice and quickly get up to take a look at what's going on, your legs turning to jelly when you spot two men carrying a gurney, a thick black bag clearing containing a body laying on it.

A single tear escapes you and you quickly wipe it away, refusing to let another tear out, your legs are about to give out and you open your mouth feeling the urge to scream but nothing comes out, only a quiet whimper.

A bunch of cops come out of your house as you're still completely unnoticed and you're not sure if you want to stick around to find out what happened, you already know what happened, you just don't want to know _how_ it happened.

You don't want these people to place you in foster care, you don't want that, your life is already hard enough as it is. So, just like that, you disappear. You run off, leaving your backpack on the grass, a small trace that you were there, that **_you know_**.

You don't even know how long you've been running for when you finally get to Luna's district. She used to live right next door to you but she had to move when she lost her husband, she said that she couldn't live in the same house he lived in so now there's at least thirty minutes separating the two of you, on car.

You run up the three small steps leading up to her front porch and repeatedly knock on the wooden door, your eyes completely drowning in your tears, tears that you strictly refuse to let go of and it hurts so fucking bad, you want to cry your heart out but you're scared.

" **D** amn, hold the fuck on!" you hear a really rough and familiar voice, which definitely isn't Luna's but your mind can't really process the info at the moment, angrily bark on the other side of the door and the person behind it barely has time to crack the door open when your teary eyes catch a glimpse of the man behind the door and that's all it takes for you to run straight into his chest and hold him tightly against you, making him twitch at the display of affection; Daryl Dixon.

" **S** he's gone. She's gone and she-she left me all alone."

" **I** 'm sorry." his voice drastically changed and it's now back to its softer tone as he hesitantly wraps his arms around your small shaking frame and pulls you inside the house. You realize, just by the smell in the hall, that, in your complete confusion, you must have run off to the Dixons' house and not Luna's. 

You were so upset and panicked that you didn't even realize that you've been running for three hours straight, not only that, you ran through the freaking woods and ended up in the small, quiet place where Daryl and his brother live.

The house smells of weed, alcohol, sweat, leather and something else, something sweet that seems so out of place here yet it doesn't really. You always thought that this specific smell was Daryl's because, like Merle says, getting a blast teasing his little brother, Daryl has always been the sweet one but, God, is he tough.

Daryl gently sits you down on the couch and settles next to you, not sure of what to say to you or what to do. You know he's full of love and good attentions, he just has a really hard time expressing and showing it.

" **W** here's Merle?" you ask barely above a whisper.

" **H** e and our old man got at each other's throat again so he went hunting and our dad's probably left for Vegas or some shit, he'll probably come back beat up and drunk off of his ass in two or three days." he says with a small laugh but you know it's the same kind of laugh you let out when you feel upset or nervous.

You know about the abusive behavior Daryl's father can have but there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, hell, you don't really need to anyway. Sadly, both Merle and Daryl grew up with his alcoholic and drug addict habits, they're both used to him throwing punches and, as they grew older, they started to fight back so now it all stops pretty damn quickly. But it upsets you nonetheless.

The boys lost their mother as well and Daryl was left alone to deal with that, just like you, because his brother was doing time back then and his father was... Well, he wasn't there.

" **A** lright," you push yourself off the couch and extend your hand out to Daryl, "you have to finish teaching me how to shoot a crossbow, Dixon." you say with a small smile, knowing that it'll distract the both of you.

He takes your hand and gets up, not questioning your odd behavior even for a second, before grabbing his sleeveless leather jacket, the one with the wings at the back that you love so much and happen to steal all the time, Merle's motorcycle keys and leads you through the kitchen then through the back door before hopping on the bike, patting the space behind him for you to climb on and you do.

" **T** hank you." you quietly say as you rest your head on his right shoulder.

" **D** on't mention it." he simply shrugs with a sincere smile but quickly feels awkward about it and feels the need to change the topic, " **H** appy birthday by the way... Sorry you-."

You give his waist a small squeeze to silently tell him that it's okay and he turns around to look at you very briefly before turning back to start the engine. He drives up to the small dirt road next to his house which leads to the small training ground he improvised to teach you how to shoot and you simply let him take you there, closing your eyes and enjoying the breeze as he drives through the quiet forest.

You feel lucky to have met Merle and Daryl, they both struggle a lot with emotions and words, just like you so they don't judge you about it, they know exactly what you feel, you don't need to explain them because, somehow, they always seem to know.

For anyone else, it would have been weird as all hell not to see you shed a single tear when your mother just died, it would have been weird to see you act like it's just another day, to still have the energy to ask such a thing as getting trained to shoot a damn crossbow and, hell, you'd be lying if you were to say that it doesn't scare, hurt and worry you but it's not like that to Daryl just like it wouldn't be to Merle. _**They know**_ , they're the only ones to know.

 

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You're brought back to the instant when you hear a door clicking shut behind you and slowly realize that you somehow came back inside your bedroom.

" **Y** ou're back with me, doll?" you hear Negan's voice behind you, making you jump and you quickly turn around, nodding just as quickly to let him know that he has your attention. " **W** here the hell d'you go just now, uh?"

" **I** \- I just g-got lost, so-sorry, sir."

He sighs and leans against your dresser before nodding towards the bed for you to sit down on it. You shyly walk towards your bed and sit on the middle of the bed, your legs crossed on the mattress and your hands pulling at your flannel.

" **R** oll up your sleeves, baby." he orders, not asks, though his voice is gentle and, really, you'd rather have him yell at you right about now if you're being honest.

A single tear escapes your eye as you realize that he somehow knows what's beneath the sleeves of your flannel. You shyly shake your head no and immediately curl yourself up, bringing your legs to your chest and hiding your face away into your knees.

" **N** ow, [y/n]." he insists, his voice harsher but still controlled.

You sob into your knees, making your body shake violently with it and you desperately try to push your head further into your thighs but it just isn't physically possible anymore, at least not without breaking your nose.

You wish that he'll just walk away and leave you alone but Negan being Negan you know damn well that he's not going anywhere until he gets what he came to get so, since there's no hole appearing inside your mattress to swallow you up, you decide to face the awful, terrible, crappy music and gently roll up your left sleeve before extending your arm out for him to see while you keep your head inside your legs.

You hear him move around but you don't look up, you're completely frozen, you don't even try to cover your arm back up.

" **I** 'm gettin' seriously sick of this shit, [y/n]!" you hear him bark, making you jump.

_yeah, me too asshole, thanks for the concern though, appreciate it._

You look up, shaking like a leaf in high wind as tears keep on rolling down your tired face until you feel every single muscle in your body tense up when you spot your butterfly knife in Negan's gloved hand.

" **W** h-" you start but you quickly back down when he turns around to look at you with something that you can't quite place shinning in his eyes.

" **Y** ou" he starts as he looks down at the bloody knife in his hand, "are not getting that shit back until you're at least three fucking weeks clean, doll."

_what? hey, he can't fucking do that! it's not our fault, what the fuck?!_

You're about to protest but you realize that he's already left the room with your knife in hand and all you can feel is pain and sheer fear. You're not angry, or at least if you are it must buried underneath everything else because you don't feel it even though you know that you should.

But, a second pass and you feel it. The urge to tear this whole place down, to watch it all burn to the ground, to crush every last bit of it in the palm of your hands but then it fades and all you can really do is feel the awful pain you've been left in.

Anger makes you stupid, sadness makes you completely numb and frustration blinds you, you fear what those three things combined together are going to do to you, you never went through all of these emotions at the same damn time and now that you are, you can't help but feel vulnerable and scared.

_we're getting our damn knife back, who the hell does he think he is? he's already done way too much, he has no fucking right to take our shit!_

" **W** hatever." you let out in a small sigh before getting off your bed and walking out of your bedroom to go and try to find something to keep yourself busy for a while at the very least.

You can't take everything that's going on in your mind anymore, the mean headache you've had last night still doesn't seem too keen on going away, it actually feels like it's getting more and more painful with each ticking minute. You could cry just from the physical pain you're in and now you also suffer really badly because of your mental health which seems to be declining way too fast for you to feel comfortable with it.

And, for a short instant, you wonder what your life would have been like if you would have declined Daryl's offer to come and live with him and his brother after Luna's death, you wonder if you would even be here right now, you wonder if they're even alive anymore and the thought of Daryl and Merle being hurt or worse, dead, hurts you so deeply, it feels like you've just stabbed yourself right in the heart.

Truth be told, you can wonder as much as you'd like, at the day of the day, you're pretty damn sure that you would have died really fucking you if you hadn't accepted to live with the Dixons when you did and it hurts like nothing else not knowing what's become of the two people who loved and cared for you ever since you were a little girl. Those two kept you alive and, as of right now, all you can do is **hope** that they're still out there somewhere, living as good of a life as possible and that makes you sick to your stomach before you've never been one to just sit there and _hope_ but, really, there's nothing else you can do... Well, that, and worry. You can also worry with every fiber of your being, that works too.

It's now 10:00 and you can hear Simon yelling in the front yard for the people going out on the supply run to gather around before he drags them out here himself by the skin of their ass and his words would usually have gotten a giggle out of you but not today, you're just seeing red today and all you can hear are white noises.

 

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**1:00** **PM** **//**

After three hours clinging to Connor's waist whilst sitting at the back of his bike , every vehicles behind and next to you come to a stop and you take a minute to look around before slowly getting off the motorcycle, stretching a bit when your feet go back on the ground, a small meow-like noise coming out of your mouth as you do, making Connor chuckle.

" **A** re you making fun of me? " you cross your arms across your chest in mocked offense and slightly pout.

" **I** wouldn't dare, my dear." he answers, letting his awful British accent out once again and it actually makes you smile a small bit.

" **O** ddly enough, I don't believe you but, hey, whatever."

He laughs and brings you against his chest, kissing your forehead and winking at you in a friendly manner.

However, when he lets go of you, you can feel a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of your head and you get the awful feeling that those might very well be Negan's so you don't turn around just yet, you can't bring yourself to.

" **A** lright, you sorry fucks! Time for some awesome team work, yeah? The usual, three group, one with Simon, one with Dwighty boy over here and one with me, y'all got that or do I have to fucking repeat?"

Everyone lets out a "yes" all at the same time like a bunch of weird robots but you only slightly nod your head in acknowledgment.

Faith is standing right beside you and she gives you a small smile before taking your hand in hers and bringing you along with her to Dwight.

" **Y** ou cool with [y/n] joining us today, D?" she asks, clearly considering him more her friend than her boss.

" **F** 'course, you're okay with that, [y/n]?" he asks you, making sure that that's what you want and you only give him a small smile and a shy nod as an answer but he takes it, he knows yesterday was hard on you.

You see Dwight walking towards Negan, talking to him and you quickly look down when Negan turns his head to stare at you as Dwight keeps on talking to him. You've never felt so damn uncomfortable.

" **W** here d'you get that bow?" Connor asks curiously as he eyes the weapon in your hand.

" **I** uh- I-."

" **S** hit, sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, just drop it, it's all good, m'sorry, darling." he quickly apologizes, trying over his words and you reach out to grab his hand and give it a squeeze to calm him down and let him know that it's okay.

" **I** -it's okay, Connor."

_daryl made it for you as a birthday present._

A few minutes later, all the groups have been assigned different tasks and your group's is to look around the five different small houses the people working at the old factory surrounding you used to live in.

_does negan even realize how much effort that is? of course not._

You're way behind everyone else, lost in your thoughts when your mind is be a very last place it should be right now but you can't help it and you don't really care either if you're being honest. You aimlessly wander inside the house you're in and let your legs carry you to the kitchen without even noticing it.

A groan brings you completely out of your bubble and pulls you right back into the real world to directly be greeted by a walker which is missing its bottom jaw and an arm. Its a man, well, at least it used to be, its really skinny and you wonder how long it's been since it had its last meal.

It always upsets you whenever you come across walkers, you feel horrible knowing that they used to be simple people just like you, that some of them probably have a tone of history but you'll never know anything about it. It's just hurtful to you.

You reach for you knife as an automatism and groan in frustration when you remember that Negan has it. Your frustration is quick to take over you and you end up bashing the poor dead bastard's head against the edge of a counter top before letting it fall on the floor and finish it by stumping on it with your heavy combat boot. You feel like crying and screaming on top of your lungs when you realize how you handled that walker, its head is almost completely gone and all you can think about is how similar it is to what you've done yesterday.

" **I** hate him!" you keep on shouting the same three words over and over again, smashing whatever has the mischance to get within your reach on the floor and, by the time you've calm down, there's glass shattered all over the floor, you're out of breath and your face is soaked in tears and sweat.

You sit on top of a counter and try to catch your breath, letting the last of your tears freely fall out of your eyes. You feel exhausted after that breakdown but you know that you'll have to hide that when you'll walk out of this house to get back with your group.

You smile a small bit when you spot a full jar of Nutella standing right beside the sink of the kitchen and you reach out to grab it before looking down at it. You know that you have to bring it back to Negan and it upsets you because when you used to live by yourself you didn't have to do that. Hell, you never had to do that even when you lived in groups, you would share your stuff with them and you'd always do it happily but it's different with him, he wants it all for himself, always and with every single thing unless he decides that its not fancy enough for his royal ass and, even when he decides he doesn't want certain the things, he doesn't just give them away, no, he  **has** to make people pay for it somehow.

" **O** nce I ate a whole jar of this damn thing just to prove my mom wrong about me being allergic to hazelnuts. You better believe that your boy ended up in the hospital." Randall's voices makes you jump out of your skin as you were too mesmerized by the damn chocolate paste to even realize he came in.

He walks towards you without mentioning anything about the mess this room is in nor the blood you're covered in and he looks through the drawers of the kitchen until he finally finds what he was looking for, " **G** o ahead, lil' bean, dig in." he says with a smile as he hands you a silver spoon.

You shyly take the spoon from him but, as you're just about to open the jar, you remember what happened, you remember just how cold, isolated and small the cell Negan threw you in yesterday was and you can feel your whole body shaking as well as your eyes filling with hot tears.

You quickly shake your head no, shove the jar and the spoon in the small bag you've been handed to collect things and jump off of the counter top before walking out of the house with shaking legs and tears rolling down on your face which you're quick to wipe away with a shaky hand, refusing to let anyone see just how awful you're feeling at the moment.

You feel terrible for leaving Randall on the spot like that but you still manage to compose yourself and walk back to the trucks where Simon and Negan seem to be having a chat. Without so much as a look or word to them, you quickly drop your full bag off and try to sneak away from them but you barely get to take three full steps when Negan's hand gets a hold of you, stopping you dead in your tracks and you don't move a single inch, you completely freeze on the spot. You're shaking even more violently and he can feel it, hell, he can fucking see it.

" **R** elax, doll, I just want us to have a nice lil' talk. Think you can do that?" he says right in your ear, making you jump in surprise to his closeness and sending shivers down your spine, his naturally gravelly voice creating an uncomfortable pressure down in your belly. 

You simply nod your head yes, feeling like you'll burst into tears if you open your mouth even for a small second but he's not satisfied with your silence, he never is fucking satisfied with anything.

" **U** se your big girl's words, [y/n]."

You swallow loudly, making him smirk behind you, and you feel so damn small and vulnerable having him this close to you, it frustrates you so much you could cry. You're probably about to, as a matter of fact.

" **Y** e-yes, sir, I can d-do that."

" **S** ee? Easy peasy."

You let out a shaky breath when he finally gives you your personal space back but you're still tense due to the fact that his hand is still tightly holding your left wrist and his freaking hand is so huge that he's almost pushing against the wounds on your forearm.

He drags you along with him to God knows where in a relatively gentle way, well the Negan version of gentle. You both end up at the very back of the old factory you're scavenging and he finally lets go of your wrist, letting you rub the skin and notice that his hand left a rather visible mark on the fragile skin when your flannel rides up on your forearm as you try and rub to slight burn off.

You look around and see that there's nothing protecting you at the moment, you only have your bow, there's no fences or anything to keep you a small bit safer but it doesn't seem to bother Negan in the sightliest. 

" **W** hy in the holy fuck did you take that damn picture, doll?" he asks clearly referring to the polaroid you took off his wall of horror last night.

" **H** o- Wha-" neither your mouth nor your brain seems to be in the mood to co-operate with you at the moment so you only let out an heavy sigh and nervously pull on your fingers, completely avoiding eye contact with Negan, hoping he'll just drop the topic but, of course not because why would he.

" **I** was going to take it down this morning but it was already fucking gone." he gets closer to you but you quickly take a clumsy step back, a sob leaving your mouth, you're terrified and you're not so sure why anymore. " **H** ey, c'mon, baby, we need to stop fucking around like that."

_we? did he just said **we**?! what! **we** need to stop fucking around? is he fucking kidding?!_

" **I** don't need to do anything anymore Negan. I never played with you, I never intended to and I sure as hell never even consider hurting you but you have, you made your own choices. Just- P-please just leave me alone."

He's about to answer when a bunch of walkers literally pop out of nowhere and they're on you in a matter of seconds. You dry your tears, take a deep breath and try to steady your grip on your bow but your vision is completely blurred by your tears and your whole body is shaking out of control.

You can barely hear Negan calling out to you through the buzzing in your ears but a very loud gunshot snaps you out of your panic and you turn around to see Negan glaring at you, he's pissed and if there's one goddamn emotion this man can show and express, you better believe that anger is fucking **it**.

" **W** hat in the holy fuck was that! Are you hur-"

He gets interrupted once again by a walker that must have been roaming close enough to hear the gunshot and quickly find the source. You completely freeze for a second as you watch Negan getting pushed against a wall, creating a loud banging noise when his body makes contact with the steel covering the surface.

Everything feels so unreal to you at this instant, all you can hear is the sound of the walker's teeth snapping together and that's it. Your head hurts so bad, your whole body is aching and, before you know it, you find yourself picking Lucille off the ground where Negan dropped her when he took his gun out, run up behind the walker snapping its jaw at Negan's face and, without even thinking about it, you swing the bloody bat right to the left side of the walker's rotten face, making it fall down and you keep swinging Lucille down on its head until the body goes completely limp.

The problem is that there's so much adrenaline, sadness and anger running through your veins at the moment that you can't stop yourself from bringing that damn bat down on whatever you're surrounded by until you start beating on the walls with it, creating loud banging noises walkers around the area are sure to hear loud and clear.

You feel Negan's hands gripping your waist tightly and lifting you completely off the ground, making you drop his bat as you struggle against his hold.

" **L** et go of me! It's all your fault, Negan! It's all your fault, I hate you!" you cry out, wiggling around, struggling against him, trying to get away from him as all of your anger finally drips out of you much to your dismay.

He ends up firmly pinning you against the wall he was stuck against minutes prior to that, quickly grabs your hands to hold them tightly together in one of his and forces you to look at him with his free hand holding your jaw.

" **G** o ahead, keep going." he orders while looking at you, carefully watching your expression and following a few tears as they roll down your face, " **G** o ahead, baby, tell me how much you fucking hate me."

" **L** et go of me, I don't want to talk to you!" you snarl through your tears, trying to regain your composure but you just can't stop something that you don't have any control over, " **I** t's all your fault! I- I - I was supposed to be happy, okay?! When do I g-get to be happy? Why don't you just let me have that one little thing! It hurts s-so bad, I hate you so much! I hate you, I hate your stupid face and I hate your attitude, I fucking hate what you do to me! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Negan!"

" **W** hat else, [y/n]?" you feel his forehead touching yours, his breath hitting your lips and you open your eyes to try and look at him but there's so many tears in them that it actually hurts to keep them open, " **C** 'mon, don't you fucking dare hold out on me, empty your damn bag, that shit looks heavy as balls, baby cakes."

_is he getting a kick out of this or does he actually fucking care for once in his life? is that what's happening here?_

You only look down and shake your head no silently telling him that you're done with his little mind games. You're so tired, fighting with him is exhausting. But when Negan isn't satisfied with something, he always twists it all around until he is.

He "gently" puts you back down on the ground but keeps you from going anywhere until he said what he has to say, " **D** oll," he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. Your face is a mess, there's hair sticking to your forehead, tears still rolling down your face, your nose is running and your lips are all puffy as well so are your cheeks, "let's say I let you go wonder outside again so that you can go and do whatever the fuck it is you do when you're out here." his words grab your attention his stupid signature smirk appear on his lips when your eyes finally find his, " **B** ut, _if_ I do, you'll have to come get your knife every time you're about to head out and you damn well know that your knife will be with me for the next three weeks so you'll have to come and pay daddy a lil' visit-"

" **Y** eah so, basically, I don't get to go out anymore, that's what you're saying." you bitterly spit out, knowing there just had to be a catch but still feeling the sting of his snaky ways, " **Y** ou know that I don't want to have anything to do in your quarters, I already told you." your head is hurting like crazy at this point, you're tired of his tricks, you're tired of him using them on you more specifically. 

" **D** on't cut me off, darlin', I fuckin' hate that shit." he gets even closer to you, completely crushing you between the wall behind you and his body, " **N** ow, as I was saying; you come to me, politely ask for the damn knife and I'll give it to you **if**  you didn't skip any meal before hand."

" **A** -and you'll let me g-go out?"

" **I** f you take your meals? Definitely, baby."

" **B** -but how would y-"

" **I** 'll know 'cause I'm everywhere, doll. I always fucking know." you slowly nod your head, quietly telling him that you're okay with that before dropping it back down and he smiles in return, nudging your nose with his to get you to look back up at him and pushing his forehead against yours when you do, " **Y** eah?" he asks, that cocky smirk of his back in full force.

" **Y** -yeah, I can d-do that."

" **A** tta girl."

He'd be lying if he said that he didn't want to take you against that damn wall right there and then, he craves you, he feels like shit and he fucking needs you but it's pretty damn clear to him that even the most innocent kiss from him is not something you want right now. In fact, he's pretty damn sure that you're fucking terrified of him and he's right, you are, you can't help it and he can't blame you for it either.

However, you're really happy about the little deal you have with him now even though you know that it'll be really hard to take all your meals, it's worth a shot if it means getting a small bit of your freedom back.

" **A** lright, doll. You okay to get back to work?" he asks actually genuinely concerned about your health.

" **Y** -yes, m'okay." you say, your voice barely above a whisper and shyly look up at him as he's towering over you, " **Y** -You?" you ask, not able to stop yourself from worrying about him and, you can't lie, your heart damn near jumped out of your chest when you saw that walker get the jump on him.

" **I** 'm alright, baby girl." he whispers back to you and he can't help himself, he leaves a lingering kiss to your forehead before stepping back and letting you walk away from him, hoping that you'll get the hell out of his sight before he says something he doesn't usually say, if ever, but he can't hold it in any longer, " **Y** 'know, for what it's worth, I'm really fucking proud of you, [y/n]."

And that's all it takes to put a small smile on your face and to set your cheeks on fire, you whisper a thank you and keep heading back to the rest of the group as Negan finds himself feeling like a freaking whale was just taken off of his shoulders... Feelings are weird.

 

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**9:00** **PM** **//**

You've finally found the strength to get out of your warm shower and run back into your room where you quickly put the pajamas you've found earlier on today on, they're so comfortable and warm it almost makes you purr.

You're so worn out after everything, you're a mess and you feel more lost than ever, you hate the way you're feeling right now if you're being completely honest with yourself. You're used to feeling shitty but you've never, ever, felt this specific way before and you would gladly have passed on the occasion.

You let out a tired sigh and let yourself fall on your bed but quickly sit back up when your back hits something really hard on the mattress.

" **W** hat the-" you turn your head around and spot a huge jar filled with chocolate paste, " **H** e did not." you take it and look at it, there's a small note on to cap.

" _fill your lil' tummy up with chocolate and I promise you you'll forget about your troubles... cos you'll be too busy thinking about how much your stomach hurts, yay!_ "

It's not signed but it doesn't need to be for you to know who it's from.

_of course he would do something like this._

You slip into your slippers, grab the jar of Nutella and get out of your room just to go knock on the door right next to yours which his Randall's.

He opens the door with a smile on his face as if he was expecting you and you quickly shove past him and walk into his room. He closes the door and turns around to look at you with the same damn smile on his face.

" **W** hat were you thinking Randall? You could get in so much trouble for that! You can't sneak things in and out for me, what the hell? I won't be the reason for you getting hurt by Negan again, screw that! Are you out of your freaking mind!?" you're in complete panic over a damn jar of Nutella but you're way too concerned about your friend's safety to care right now.

"[ **Y** /n]," he tries to catch your attention but you keep on mumbling incoherent things, "[ **Y** /n]!" you finally stop talking and look up at him with teary eyes, " **D** amn, sweet pea, I didn't steal anything, I promise. I bought it."

" **Y** ou b- You used your freaking points on me? Randall-"

" **Y** es. Yes, I have and I was more than happy to, [y/n]. C'mon, just let me have this, please?" you let a small sigh of defeat as he gives you his damn, adorable puppy eyes and you end up hugging him tightly, whispering a "thank you" against his chest, " **Y** ou're welcome, beautiful." he gently pulls away from you, tells you to make yourself comfortable and walks towards his wide open wooden chest where he fetches a bunch of things out and joins you on his bed.

You hesitantly grab a really pretty looking glass bottle and read the inscriptions on it, it's cherry liquor.

" **C** an I have some? S'my favorite." you ask, looking down at the bottle, afraid that you may have sound greedy.

" **F** 'course you can, sweet pea. Go ahead, take a swing." he says with a smile and looks back down to lit the candle in his hand before putting in on top of his nightstand as you take a big sip of the strong liquor.

You feel your throat burning and your stomach getting upset with you the moment the alcohol reaches and coats it entirely. It's been two days now since you've last eat something and consuming alcohol with an empty stomach is never good.

" **H** ere," a silver spoon shows up right in front of your face as Randall waits for you to take it, "dig in." he says with a smile, repeating the same words he said to you earlier on today only this time you actually open the jar and dip the spoon in the thick paste before bringing it up to your mouth, smiling when the chocolate hits your tongue.

You can't even recall when was the last time you've had chocolate and you're so happy to finally taste it again that you almost fell like crying which kind of makes you feel like a lunatic.

_meh, better to cry over chocolate than over a man._

" **G** ood?" you hear Randall chuckle and you open your eyes which you didn't even realize were closed and blush furiously as you make eye contact with him.

" **S** o freaking good." you admit with a shy giggle and a mouth full of chocolate.

You two stay sitting down on his bed, legs crossed, sharing your beverage and your chocolate whilst getting to know each other a little better. So far here's what you've gathered; he's twenty-four, he used to be a tattoo artist and he was engaged to someone way before the world went to shit. Neither of you really asked any deeply personal question, you both know that tonight isn't a good night for it, not with the state that you're in.

At this point, you've been talking for two whole hours, it's almost midnight but you're not willing to go to bed, truth be told, it's more that you don't want to sleep all alone tonight, you love having Randall around, he makes you feel safe and appreciated.

" **O** kay, okay, my turn, right?"

" **S** adly." you giggle

" **A** w c'mon, I'm not that bad. So, uh... Oh, I know, who's your favorite villain?"

" **H** arley Quinn, easy." you answer, shrugging your shoulders.

" **W** hy?"

" **H** ey, you only get one question mister, s'my turn." you pause and think about something to ask him without getting too personal, " **O** kay, I got one, have you ever eat something, like, really freaking gross?"

" **U** gh, God, yeah. I had to fucking eat worms once and a raccoon-" he makes a disgusted sound, like he's gagging and you have to hold back your laughter as he genuinely seems traumatized by the experiences, "just thinking about it kinda makes me wanna puke so, let's leave it there, yeah?"

" **E** w, worms? Ew! Why would you eat those, Randall? Eeew!"

" **I** didn't have the choice, believe it or not." he says with a giggle.

" **I** believe it, trust me, it's just- ew."

" **O** kay, my turn, why Harley Quinn?"

" **W** ell," you let out a small sigh, "everyone thinks that she only has a purpose as the Joker's girlfriend but I feel like there's way more to her plus I really like her twisted personality because despite everything she still has her limits, she's still human, y'know?" you look up at him and let out a nervous giggle, " **A** m I being stupid?"

" **N** o, not at all, I really like your take on things actually."

You grew up watching cartoons and you immediately got attached to Harley Quinn when she first showed up in one of your favorite series, the Batman animated series. If you had to take a wild guess as to why you relate to her so much, you'd say that her hidden vulnerability, the fact that she's been through abuse just like you and the way she sometimes breaks down are the reasons why you project yourself so much on her.

We all have our very own ways to deal with bad times, yours was this fictional character simply because she's the only thing you've ever got close to someone you could somehow relate to.

" **E** ver heard of ink-less tattoos?" Randall asks, not giving you the time to feel awkward about your little confession.

" **N** -No, what's that?" you ask genuinely curious.

" **I** t's the same basic concept as a tattoo, the only thing that changes is that, you're not actually tattooed with a needle and ink, you just use the tip of a needle, dip it into a small fire for it to heat and you draw your tattoo with the heated steel, it's basically just a burn that looks like whatever you want it to look like. I've lost count of how many stupid shit I've burned on my friends' asses over the years" he adds with a chuckle, getting a laugh and a "eew" out of you, the sound only making his smile turn into a grin.

" **C** an I have one?" you ask way too excited about getting burned but he really tickled your curiosity and now you want one.

" **I** t hurts, sweet pea."

" **R** andall, I've been shot, stabbed, beat up and I harm myself every two freaking days, believe me, my tolerance to pain is pretty high."

" **I** t happened again, [y/n]?" he asks with a concerned voice and worried eyes.

" **I** -" you sigh in defeat and shoot him a pleading look silently telling him that you don't want to think about that right now.

He gives you a small smile, leans towards you and kisses your forehead before whispering a quiet "okay" against your skin.

He gets off the bed and looks through his nightstand, fetching a clean needle in a sterile package, the same kind he used to tattoo people with, before coming back on the mattress. He settles on top of the bed and leans against the headboard before patting the space between his parted legs so you can crawl between his thighs and he gently pushes your upper body against his chest, silently telling you to relax and you almost immediately do so.

" **A** lright, what do you want and where, sweet pea?" he asks, his voice hitting your bare neck and making goosebumps pop all over your skin.

" **A** -A rose on the right side of my left thumb, p-please?"

" **Y** ou got it." he says before leaving a kiss behind the shell of your ear and you feel him move around behind you for a while before he settles, " **I** f it hurts too much just tell me, okay? I need you to promise me, [y/n]."

" **I** promise."

He doesn't say anything else and you suddenly feel a violent shot of pain ripping through your whole arm has the hot needle burns your skin, your arm twitch but you stay still has Randall starts to draw the flower on the side of your thumb.

" **Y** ou okay?"

" **Y** ep. You just do that directly on the skin like that?"

" **W** ell, not normally but I don't really have any transfer sheets on me at the moment, sweet pea." he says with a small laugh.

" **D** on't get smart with me, Randy." you giggle.

" **U** gh, don't call me that. Negan calls me that, s'awful."

" **A** lright then, how shall I call you then?" your arm twitches again underneath the heated needle but you keep on distracting yourself by talking to Randall, " **H** ow 'bout big papa, how's that?" you say with a small laugh.

" **B** ig papa, uh? Sounds pretty damn badass to me."

" **S** ounds more like the name of a prison inmate." you put on a scruffy voice, " **H** ey there, I'll be your inmate for the rest of your days, call me Big Papa you lil' bitch."

He takes the needle away from your thumb and looks at down before laughing and playful shaking his head in mocked disapproval.

" **B** ig Papa's seen some shit boy." you add with your regular, way softer, voice as you're not able to keep the scruffy, manly one up anymore because it hurts your throat, making the two of you laugh.

_god damn, it feels so good to laugh._

It's now past midnight, there's a seriously beautiful - swollen and slightly bleeding - rose burned on the delicate skin on the right side of your left thumb and you're curled up against Randall's chest as you're both laying on his bed underneath a warm blanket, the two of you slowly but surely falling into a deep sleep.

" **I** t ain't your fault, sweet pea." you're so tired, you can't even answer him so you just squeeze even closer to him to let him know that you're still awake and listening, " **I** 'm so fucking sorry about what happened, I'm so sorry that you had to go through it and I'm so fucking sorry that I didn't do a damn thing about it, I was just- I was so fucking angry, I just- I fucking froze like a dumbass." he brings you closer to him and snuggles you further into his arms, bringing his blanket higher on your shoulders, " **I** 'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'll always be there, even when I'm not, I promise you that, sweet pea. I care so fucking much about you."

" **I** care about you too, Randall. I don't want you to leave." you sleepily whisper, your mind not even sure if you actually said the words out loud or just though them out.

_but he will._

" **I** won't."

After this, the both of you silently fall asleep tightly curled up against one another as if you're afraid of the possibility to somehow lose the other in the bed.

Admittedly you'll say that you actually are scared shit-less of that possibility, the possibility that death might touch him, the possibility to lose a friend, the possibility that, someday, the rose on your thumb might be all that's left of him for you to have a hold onto and it fucking hurts to even think about thinking about it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU'RE STILL NOT CALM, BITCH, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.  
> So, how you doin'? o3o  
> I hope you're all doing amazing and that you're having an amazing day or night, I dunno where you live bruh.
> 
> On a way more serious note (cos I can totally be serious, yes - who fucking laughed, I fucking heard that!)
> 
> I truly hope that all of my Muslims/Mexicans/African-Americans and LGBT+ communities out there are safe and sound, I hope that you keep on fighting for your goddamn rights, I'm seriously amazed at how graceful you all are, it's unbelievable. Keep fighting, you shall destroy that orange pile of diarrhea.
> 
> And to all my amazing, strong women (and you better fucking understand right from the get-go that I'm including my transgender girls in there as well) out there, don't let this lil orange trust fund bitch tell you want to do with your body, it's yours and yours only. Keep on fighting, I'm sending all my love to you guys. Please, please, stay safe.
> 
> See, seriousness is a thing that I have.
> 
> Anyway! I really liked this chapter?? I know it took a long time to come out but, hey, I'm a human being and life happens.  
> As always, I'm sorry for any mistakes, it's crazy 'cause you'd think that my anxiety would've die down by now when it comes to posting my work but NOPE it didn't not, i hate everything ;_____;
> 
> ONE LAST THING; FROM NOW ON, I'LL UPLOAD EVERY WEEKEND EITHER ON FRIDAY NIGHT REALLY LATE LIKE AT 2:00 AM (keep in mind that I live in France so, you might want to check where that puts you) OR ON SATURDAY NIGHT (probably really fucking late too 'cause I'm a fucking loser and I don't have a sleep schedule.)
> 
> ONE OTHER LAST THING, THE FIRST LAST THING LIED TO YOU: is there something that you guys really want to happen in the story? or a character that you'd like to have more info or focus on? let me know, seriously, I'm genuinely curious about that.
> 
> BUT YEAH, ANYWAY! I HOPE YOU'RE ALL HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT, PLEASE STAY SAFE, I LOVE YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH, YOU'RE SO PRECIOUS I WANNA SQUISH YOUR FACES 'CAUSE YES I'M THAT FUCKING INTENSE WHEN I CARE.  
> have a good day or night 030
> 
> _Célia.  
> ps: the whole Harley Quinn thing is just really personal to me, sorry if you don't actually like her... why wouldn't you like her though, I'm confused.


	13. Fire And Gasoline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S 3:00 AM RIGHT NOW, I'VE PROOFREAD THIS CRAP BUT, HELL, Y'ALL KNOW THE DRILL BY KNOW AND GUESS WHAT? AS A FREAKING BONUS THIS TIME, SERIOUSLY DEEP ANXIETY JOINED THE PARTY! YAY! SO THERE MUST BE SOME FRUSTRATING AND HORRIBLE MISTAKES IN THERE -mostly due to inattention and me typing like a freaking maniac- AND I'M TRULY SORRY, I TRULY AM, BUT, PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR IT, I'M FREAKING TIRED AND I JUST HAD TO UPLOAD THIS NO MATTER WHAT, ANXIETY OR NOT (sadly, anxiety it is, i hate everything)
> 
> I KNOW, this chapter is a few days late (I said I'll post every Friday/Saturday OR Sunday and it's freaking Tuesday as I'm posting this -_-) and I'm truly sorry but, the thing is; I am human being, a really dysfunctional one at that, and I have very very bad moments that I'm forced to go through just like everyone else and when I'm having one of these moments I generally don't really mind because I've been through way worse but this time is a lil more "intense" and it's kind of hard to manage, it's been a while since I've had a really bad time like I'm having right now but I'll put through, it's just that my mind can't stay focus on the smallest of things whenever things are going wrong like that for me so I'll let you imagine how hard it is to even find the motivation to write. Don't get me wrong, I am NOT stopping my work, at all! But it's just that it might be a small bit late from time to time for a good month and I'm truly sorry about that. I can only promise you that I'll get back on a more regular schedule when I'll get better, pinkie swear.
> 
> ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy this chapter lil cupcakes and if you don't, well, I'm not really sure what happens then to be honest.
> 
> ALSO, OH MY FECKING GAWD U GUYS. THERE'S SOME SHAMELESS MAKE OUT SESSIONS IN HERE.  
> ALSO THERE'LL BE SOME SMUT THAT'LL BE JUST AS SHAMELESS REAL FREAKING SOON AND THE FUCKING LANGUAGE IS GONNA BE REALLY FUCKING CRUDE COS FOR SOME FUCKING REASON I FEEL WEIRD USING THE WORDS PENIS AND VAGINA IN A STORY INVOLVING A CHARACTER AS FUCKING RUDE AS NEGAN, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? NO ONE FUCKING KNOWS SO, NOW, YOU'RE STUCK WITH A BUNCH OF "PUSSY" AND "DICK" AND "COCK". WHAT? I'M DON'T FEEL AWKWARD AT ALL ABOUT IT, DO YOU?!  
> send help, I'm dying of embarrassment over here.

**1:15** **AM** **; //**

Another one of your violent night terror woke you up, making you jump against Randall's chest but, thankfully, it didn't seem to disturb his deep sleep one bit.

" **H** ow can someone sleep so deeply nowadays." you quietly whisper to yourself as you carefully slip away from his grip and body warmth, immediately regretting your decision, especially when you hear him grunt in his sleep at the loss, and you silently sit down on the mattress, push off the warm comforter from your body, whimpering as the cold air in the room hits you and gently get out and off the bed.

" **T** hank you." you whisper softly to the sleeping Randall laying on the bed, pull out the lit candle on his nightstand, bring his blanket further up on his shoulders and quietly leave the bedroom, closing the door behind you just to lean against it afterwards.

You bring your left hand up and smile as you gently run a shaky finger over the rose burned on your soft skin, it's still a small bit swollen but it's not bleeding anymore. There's small patches of dry blood on the flower and you can't resist but to scratch them away.

On an impulse, you decide to go outside to get some air since you know that your mind is racing way too much for you to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, anyway.

You make your way to your bedroom, take your pajamas off to get into Randall's jeans and a grey hoodie, the same damn grey hoodie you were wearing when Jason took you away, the same damn grey hoodie that's now covered in your blood because no one seems to be able to completely wash it off. You try not to think about, you really do, but it still seems to stay in a corner of your mind and it frustrates you.

You didn't really talk about what happened with Jason, you don't want to... Or maybe you do? You're not sure, I mean, what's there to say, anyway? And what's it gonna change for you? It's done, it happened and you can't change that, you just can't.

This complete stranger took you away from other people just because he believed that he had the right to claim you as his, he judged your scars and created brand new ones, he mentally abused you, he touched you like you were his to touch and, worst of all, he looked at your body like it was his to **judge**.

You feel gross just thinking about it. This is not okay, it never was and it never will be but, for some reason, you don't feel like it's all that big a deal. He wasn't the first man to ever lay his filthy hands on you, he wasn't the first one to ever try and take advantage of your shyness and kindness but, all in all, he also wasn't the first one you fought off.

You feel like you should be relieved that he's not walking on the same ground as you anymore but you just can't find it in you to feel even slightly better about the whole situation, no matter how completely dead the fucker is.

_you did kill him... and four of his men, seems like something your lilttlefriend negan would do, just sayin'._

You frown at that though. That's not you talking and you know that but it doesn't stop it from behind hurtful and worrying to you. What if you actually are like him after all?

You shake your head left and right, slip your combat boots on and run out of your room, feeling like you're about to suffocate in here.

 

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You're just about to cross the huge open doors of the main working area of the compound leading to the front yard, when your hardheaded nature takes over and whispers to you to go and get what's yours back.

_we need our knife back, it's ours, he can't just take it away from us like that, I mean, c'mon, [y/n]!_

You stop in your tracks and turn back to look around the huge compound until your eyes finally stop on the huge staircase leading up to the big deck standing tall above the rest of the room you've spotted last night before letting yourself get distracted by the wall of horror to your left.

_how much you wanna bet that whatever's up there belongs to negan._

You let out a small sigh; of course this stairs lead to another part of the place that exclusively belongs to Negan, the simple fact that this deck is high-up, standing above everything else, gives it away.

You carefully step closer to the big, quite intimidating staircase and hesitantly put a foot on the first step, letting out a shaky breath as you do so. Is it really worth it? Plus, you don't have the energy to fight with him, not again, you can't keep up with that crap anymore, you don't want to. If he catches you roaming around where you're not supposed to- Hell, you don't even want to think about it.

You climb up the stairs and finally make it to the deck. You look around and you can perfectly picture Negan standing there, Lucille on his shoulder, his people kneeling on the hard ground of the compound, not daring to look up at him, bowing down to him like he's some kind of God but you know better than that.

You sigh and jump up on the safety ramp to sit down on it, your feet dangling in emptiness. You're terrified of heights, you have no idea what the hell you are doing sitting there, why your feet are literally hanging in complete emptiness but, for some odd reason, it feels kind of right. Everything seems so small below you, is that what Negan likes so much about it?

" **C** an't sleep either, uh, baby girl?"

An all too familiar scruffy voice echoes right behind you, sending shivers down your spine and causing the hair at the back of your neck to stand straight up.

You're completely frozen, it's like hearing his voice brought you straight back down to Earth and you're now only realizing just how freaking high-up you actually are. There's nowhere for you to go; on one side, there's completely emptiness and, on the other, there's the possibility of you ending up face to face with Negan and that has to be one of the last things you want right now.

" **N** -no." you simply answer, your grip getting tighter on the safety ramp you're sitting on.

" **I** can't even see your goddamn face but I can still tell that you're fucking terrified, question is; what's scaring you?" you hear him taking a step closer and his breath hits the shell of your ear right after, " **Y** ou're scared 'cause you know damn well that you're not fucking supposed to be here or is it because you're really fucking high up right now, princess?" his arms snake around your waist, making your whole body go completely stiff as he slowly brings your back against his chest and, before you can keep it from happening, your small shaking hands tightly grab onto his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, seeking safety, " **C** 'mere, baby girl." he coos before lifting you up off of the ramp and keeps you firmly against his body, waiting for you to calm down and for your legs to be able to support you again once your feet make contact with the deck's floor again.

" **Y** ou better not be there for what I fucking think you're here for 'cause I'm gonna be even more pissed, sweetheart." he lowly whispers in your ear, anger slightly showing through his voice.

" **W** \- I- But-" between the sobs that you're fighting really hard to swallow back, your uneven breath and the fact that you're completely crushed against Negan's body, you can't bring yourself to form a proper sentence no matter how hard you try.

" **W** ords, princess." he says with a small chuckle, not mocking you but amused by how flustered you get whenever he's around.

" **M** -my kn-knife, I-" you let out a deep, shaky breath, as you desperately try to form a simple sentence without stuttering, "C-can I- Can I have it back, p-please?"

You hear Negan sigh behind you and feel his grip loosen around your waist until he completely lets go of you, turning you around for you to face him as one of his hands comes up to your face to keep you from looking away, " **W** e've already talked about this, haven't we, baby?" he raises his eyebrows when the only answer he gets is your eyes dropping to the ground as you try real hard not to let any tears slip out.

" **I** wanna go home." you let out barely above a whisper and Negan only catches it because the place is really quiet.

" **W** here the fuck is home, doll?" he asks with a frown.

" **I** \- I dunno."

There's a small silence, your whole body tense due to the fact that Negan's hand is still resting on your cheek and you're not really comfortable with that, it just feels too intimate.

Your eyes close because you feel like you might blow up if you make any sort of eye contact with him but it results in you being completely unaware of the fact that Negan's eyes dropped down to your left hand, spotting the fresh burn sitting on your delicate skin, his jaw clenching and an odd feeling curse through his veins as he examines the rose on the outside of your thumb.

" **N** ice lil' burn you got there, baby girl." your eyes snap open and your whole body tenses right back up, making you feel as if there's a freaking board stuck to your back, " **L** et's go have a lil' chat, uh? Yeah." he says through his clenched jaw and starts to literally drag you through an open door leading back inside.

" **W** -wait-" you try to keep him from moving you any further by sticking your feet to the ground but the glare he shoots you shuts your protest down as fast as it began.

He closes the door behind you and drags you to a big room filled with couches and a small bar, there's a chess-table and a few plants here and there. A shiver runs down your spine when you realize that you're in the room his "wives" spend their days in, the strong, toxic, smell of nail polish and the cliché girly magazines laying all over the place easily giving your location away.

You're not sure what the emotion you're feeling right now is, all you know is that; you hate it. You harshly slip off of his tight grip, making him turn around to look at you, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips as he loses his patience.

He carefully looks at your face, your tired and teary eyes, your lips swollen from you biting down on them, your cheeks burning a crimson red and your eyebrows slightly furrowed in what he assumes to be anger and/or confusion.

He steps closer to you, making you uncomfortably small, " **Y** ou seriously think Randy boy is the man for you, baby girl? That it?" he gives you his cocky signature smirk and looks down at your left hand, his jaw visibly clenching again.

You're not sure what it is; his cocky attitude, his smirk, his overly confident self or simply his words but something pushes you over the edge and you end up shoving him away from you, at least a small bit as he still is way bigger than you and you're completely drained.

You nervously run a shaking hand through your messy hair, slightly pulling at them out of frustration, " **I** can't- I can't- Negan, I-" you clench your jaw and swallow your tears back but a single one escapes you and your whole body twitches when Negan's hand comes down on your face to wipe it away, " **D** o you even care about me?" you ask barely above a whisper as tears of pure anger and hurt start to stream down your tired face, " **D** o you want me to take my meals because you care about my health or is it just that you feel like you have to have complete control over me?" you shyly look up at him and your body starts to shake when you see the look on his face, " **I** s that why you took my knife away? Because you feel like you should be i-in control o-of- of-" you lose track of your words when Negan steps closer and closer to you until he has you completely pinned down against a door, " **I** hate you so much, why are you like this?" you whisper whilst looking down at your boots.

" **Y** ou're the fucking reason why." he says lowly, his voice scruffier than usual.

How dare he put his shitty behavior on you? He's been like this way before you came into his life, you're not the reason why he's such a prick, you're not to fucking blame for his crappy attitude and mentality. But then again, you might actually be the cause of a change in him and that's what he was referring to rather than his violent personality, you just don't know that yet.

You're about to snap at him, slap his stupid face off and send it to fucking Jupiter, but, just as you're about to spit venom out of your mouth, he brings his lips down on yours in an oddly gentle way, so gently that you're actually more surprised by that rather than the fact that he's kissing you.

You feel like you should really just push him off of you and throw him out the nearest window but, for some reason, you can't bring yourself to move a single muscle, you don't even kiss him back but you don't push away either, you don't want to or maybe you do? You're lost and it's all his fault.

He makes you dizzy, he somehow manages to complete you just as easily as he can break you completely, he makes you whole yet he's the only person able to leave you feeling completely hollow in a blink of an eye. It just hurts, plain and simple. Or maybe not that plain and definitely not that fucking simple either.

" **I** was so scared when that lunatic took me away from you." you let out as soon as his lips leave yours, " **I** wasn't afraid just because he was touching me and trying to claim me as his." you shyly look up to Negan's eyes as his forehead rests on yours, his breathing heavy and his eyes looking straight into yours, " **I** was scared because he wasn't you." you stop and let a sob out, " **H** e... he w-wasn't you, Negan. A-and he- he just-" you push your forehead further against his, your nose now touching his, as you're desperately seeking safety and comfort, " **I** 'm scared." you whisper as another tear escapes from your eyes. 

Before he can even think of words to say, your small right hand is grabbing the back of his neck and pushing his lips back on yours, keeping him as close to you as possible, your jealousy and craving showing right through but Negan doesn't seem to mind at all. He actually takes full part in the heated kiss by pushing you flush against the door behind you, gripping your thighs and lifting you up, your legs immediately snaking around his waist, before pushing his lips further against yours, grunting as he does, sending shivers down your spine but those shivers seem to bring you back to your senses and you end up pushing Negan away from you, again.

" **W** ha-" he starts but you cut him off with a slap, making his head snap to the right, his jaw clenched when he looks back at you.

" **W** hat are you doing to me!?" you break into tears again but they're not tears of sadness, no, they're tears of pure frustration and anger.

He completely ignores your question and, in only two steps, he's right back in front of your face again, his eyes are dark and there's a clear, small open cut on his cheekbone. His hand wraps itself around your fragile neck and he roughly pushes you back against the wooden door you were leaning on a few seconds ago.

Your small hands reach up to scratch and claw at his forearm to try and get him to let go of you but his free hand quickly stops your movement as it pins both of your arms above your head against the door.

" **O** h girly, you're in a fucking world of goddamn trouble." he carefully watches your face as you keep on wiggling around to try and pry his hand away from your throat but it only makes his grip tighten and, you don't feel it coming when a small whimper slips past your puffy lips as your body seems to be enjoying the breath play going on and that's, of course, something that Negan immediately spots, making his cocky smirk appear on his lips. " **I** t ain't right, doll." he says with a frown but his lips are still wearing that damn smirk of his.

You try to ask him what he means by that but only a shaky breath comes out of your mouth as his hand on your throat keeps you from talking, " **Y** ou should be mine, you should be right by my fucking side all day fucking long, you should be my fucking princess." he narrows his eyes at you and gets a small bit closer to you, the tip of your noses touching, " **I** 'll fucking kill every single damn man left on this goddamn planet to make sure that no one ever fucking looks at you the same way I fucking do. D'y'know just how fucking mad I get whenever I catch one of my men looking at you or fucking talking to you or about you? It makes me want to fucking bash them 'til there's nothing but a patch of blood left of 'em."

And as he roughly unravels in front of you, between him admitting to be beyond jealous, his cocky smirk that normally would make you blow a fuse, his darkened eyes and his rough hand gripping your throat, you can't help but unravel as well.

It's all too much for you and, at this point, it feels like you're not in control of your body, nor your vocal cords, anymore and you can't stop the small needy noises from slipping out of your mouth as your teeth keep on digging harder and harder into your fleshy bottom lip, almost making you taste blood.

" **Y** ou were fucking ***** made for me, baby girl." he snarls, his lips grazing yours, making you want to cry and beg.

You try to say something but his hand is keeping you from doing so and he seems to realize it so he slightly loosen his grip on your throat and his smirk gets wider when he can already spot a huge hand print on your soft skin, _his_ hand print.

He waits for you to say whatever you wanted to say but you're so overwhelmed that you can't think of anything else but his lips and, soon enough, you end up pushing your head up against his to let your lips softly rest against his and you difficultly keep yourself from actually kissing him as you don't want to get into more trouble with him.

" **Y** ou're fucking mine, been mine since fucking day one, baby girl." he says with his scruffy voice and immediately crashes his lips into yours afterwards, pushing your head back against the door behind you where your hands are still trapped above your head.

You kiss him back with all your might as his right hand is still keeping you from breathing properly, your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you're seeing stars but you don't give a damn, you could fucking pass out and you still wouldn't care. His lips moving hungrily against yours is all that matters to you at the moment, his smell, his taste and his touch is all that you crave and it makes you forget about your primal needs such as air.

His grip on your throat loosen and he gives you a few minutes to catch your breath as his left hand finally lets go of your hands and they immediately find their way into his dark hair to pull him right back to your lips. Your eagerness amuses him just as much as it turns him on and he just can't deny you but he sure as shit wants to take advantage of your vulnerability.

" **Y** ou're so fucking needy, baby girl." he coos against your lips, teasing you.

His lips are right against yours, your skin is touching his but he just stands there with his cocky smirk stuck on his face.

" **P** -ple-please." you whine as you wiggle around in his arms.

" **P** lease what, baby?" he asks with darkened eyes, waiting for you to say that one damn word that'll send him into overdrive.

" **P** -please, daddy."

" **G** ood girl." he growls and forcefully pushes his lips back on yours, his tongue not waiting for an invitation and directly slipping in-between your slightly parted lips as his right hand comes back down on your throat, making you whimper.

A few minutes go by where it's just the two of you heavily making out and rutting against each other like goddamn animals in heat. Your cheeks are burning red, your breathing is heavy and your lips are all swollen, as for Negan, he doesn't seem to give a damn about his need for air anymore, it almost seems like he forgot about it actually, his lips are never leaving yours, not even when he whispers praises to you.

This is stupid, you know it is. He hurt you and he'll do it again and again and again and- well, eventually, it'll end up being too much for you to handle so you rather not think about it if you're being honest.

It feels like all of your senses come back to you in a second, the awful smell of weird perfume mixed with the smell of nail polish, you suddenly remember where you are and what you're doing... and with who.

You hate how much you crave this man, how safe you feel in his arms, the way his rough hand wrapped around your throat makes you feel, the way he sends you into overdrive with just a smirk and, God, do you hate how jealous you are. You hate that you're not the one and only girl in his life and you hate to even think about thinking about him sleeping with them, kissing them and taking care of them, it hurts you so bad, it just isn't worth it.

You push him away from him and try to regain your composure as best as you can before he starts asking you what the hell is going on but, oddly enough, he never does, he just looks at you with a slight frown.

"[ **Y** /n], baby-"

" **Y** ou can either have them all and let go of me definitively or-" you pause and look at him, nervously pulling at your fingers, "Or y-you can- You can have me. B-but- but you can't have both, I won't let you."

" **A** re you seriously doing this shit to me right now, baby girl?" he says with what seems to be a nervous laugh to you.

" **Y** -you've done wa-way worse t-to me, Negan a-and I don't-" you let out a small, tired, sigh, "You're hurting me rea-really badly and I ca-can't take it anymore." 

A silence filled with tension fills the room and it's when Negan lets out an heavy sigh that you decide to cut through this tension with your sharpest knife.

" **A** -alright then." you let a nervous giggle, trying not to cry in front of him again, " **F** orget about me then." you quickly walk to the door leading out of the room but you stop in front of it when Negan calls out for you, you don't let him talk though, you don't even turn around, " **D** on't you dare hurt Randall, Negan, 'cause I will kill you if you lay another hand on him." you say through a tightly clenched jaw, angry as you recall just how badly he's beat him up in the past out of jealousy.

_now get the fuck out of here and don't let him get to you, not again._

You quickly open the door and get out of the room when you hear Negan's footsteps getting closer to you. You close the door behind you and run down the giant staircase, the really cold air filling the open compound cutting right through your delicate skin as you walk straight back to Randall's room, feeling like you could seriously use some comfort right now.

You feel like shit running back to Randall after what just happened with Negan. It's not that Randall is a second option to you, hell no, he's more like your comfort zone, kind of like... Home, in a way.

You unzip the dark jeans that you're wearing and gently push the door to Randall's bedroom open and close it behind you just as quietly, not sure if he's awake or not but not willing to take the risk to wake him from his slumber. You slip out of your combat boots, let your pants fall and pool at your ankles before stepping out of them and turning around to get inside the warm bed.

You jump slightly when you see that he's awake, watching you as he's laying on his side, leaning on his right forearm on the mattress as he watches you with a small smile, " **G** ot a lot on your mind don't ya, sweet pea." he affirms more than he asks as he looks at your puffy eyes and your swollen lips.

" **Y** -yeah, I-" you drop your head down as you can feel tears filling your eyes yet again, " **I** -I'm sorry that I left like that i-in the middle of the night, I just- I had a rea-really bad dream and th-then I thought ab-about Jason and- and then I w-wanted to go get some fresh air b-but I d-decided to sneak around N-Negan's back to get my kn-knife back b-but he cau-caught me and- and then I- I- We k-kissed and- and now I have marks a-all over me and- and- and I-"

" **H** ey," Randall quickly gets out of his bed to take you in his arms, burying you in his embrace, his bare chest warming you up, "shh, it's okay, sweet pea. S'alright, relax, breathe for me, yeah?." he looks down at you, frowning slightly as he spots Negan's hand print on the delicate skin of neck, " **I** knew you two had a- uh- how can I put it... A complicated relationship? I mean, I understood that when he beat my ass for ''being too close to you for his liking''." he says with a small laugh but his words only make you sob into his chest as you recall how beat up his face was that day, " **H** -hey, no, no, no, don't cry, baby. Shh, shh, it's okay. It ain't your fault." he gently grabs your face and forces you to look up at him, his thumbs softly wiping a few of your tears away and you purr at the gesture, " **I** t's not your fault, me getting my ass beat? Wasn't your fault, that man dying? Not your fucking fault either and you falling in the horrible fucking loops that are Negan's mind games? It ain't your fucking fault either, you hear me?"

You only nod your head yes and hide back into his chest, making him chuckle softly at your antics, " **A** lrighty then, now, I love you and all, sweet pea, but it's, like, three in the morning and I'm still really fucking tired so, how 'bout we go to back to sleep and we'll talk tomorrow? Well, more like, later today actually... We have a fucking long ass supply run scheduled today and we can't go out there with our heads in our ass. Believe me, it's really fucking dark in there, plus it really fucking hurts. I mean, it's a whole head we're talking about here."

You give him a friendly punch on the shoulder, the giggle escaping your lips making a huge contrast with your teary and tired eyes but the sound seems to make Randall happy none the less.

He lifts the thick comforter of the bed to let you crawl underneath it and you do with red cheeks as you realize that you're on all four in front of him with no pants on but he doesn't make any comments on it, he only lets himself fall, literally, right on top of you, crushing you and making you laugh a little too loudly but neither of you care.

He brings the thick, warm blanket on top of your heads so you both end up completely buried underneath it and he flops right next to you on the comfortable mattress.

You feel like a child again, you used to love building pillows forts to protect you from the "monsters" outside. It's funny, because, when you think about it? That's you're whole life now; building things up, improvising safe places to protect you from the monsters roaming outside, nothing seems to have the same meaning as it used to though... Okay, so, maybe not so funny, actually.

_this new world is so goddamn confusing and painful to live in, dude._

" **N** o offense but, you look ridiculously good when you're deep in your thoughts, sweet pea." Randall teases with a sly smirk, bringing you back to the instant.

" **S** hush your mouth."

" **O** h! Such a potty mouth, I can't believe you right now." he mocks in a friendly manner, making you blush and giggle at the same time.

" **I** don't like to curse, alright? Leave me alone. You're mean." you say with a small pout.

" **G** oddamn it." he whispers, looking at you with a small smile.

" **W** -what is it?" you ask shyly, curious as to why he's looking at you like that.

" **I** t's just- I always feel like, some day, I'm gonna wake up and you'll be gone, y'know? You're too fucking good to be real, what the hell even are you, [y/n]?"

" **I** uh- Well," you get closer to him and lower your voice to whisper, "don't tell anyone but, I actually am a unicorn dressed up as a human... Sadly this is the only human costume they had left at the store, it's kind of gross if I'm being honest."

" **D** on't talk down on yourself like that, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen and, shit, I used to be engaged to someone, sweet pea."

Your cheeks are on fire at this point and, since you can't seem to find anything smart to say, you give his cheek a quick peck and bundle up against his chest, your arms folded between his bare chest and your covered one.

" **G** oodnight, Chicago boy." you say with a small smile, referring to the city he was born in, making him chuckle.

" **G** oodnight, Batman." he answers, making you giggle, before kissing your forehead and letting his head rest on one of his pillows as he slowly but surely falls right back to sleep in the same rhythm as you.

_hell, yeah, m'always batman._

 

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**9:00** **A.M** **//**

It's already been two hours since you left the Sanctuary, two hours sitting next to Simon in his truck, listening to his horrible uncle jokes that only he laughs at which results in you laughing along, two hours of listening to weird country music and it's so bad that you seriously start considering jumping out of this moving truck an hour ago.

" **D** o you even understand what this dude is saying, Simon? 'Cause, to me, it just sounds like he's sucking on his mic, it's awkward."

Simon lets out a genuine laugh and looks at you before putting his eyes back on the road, " **H** ell, can you imagine this dude in the studio." he puts on an awful hillbilly accent on to impersonate his very own version of the singer's manager, "Gerald stops fucking putting the damn mic in your goddamn mouth you fuckin' moron."

You giggle and look at him for a quick second, " **Y** 'know, the first time I saw you wasn't when you decided to drag me out of my hiding hole." he looks at you with raised eyebrows, silently asking you to develop, " **I** , uh, saw you in the woods before you, uh, "found" me that night. You were actually looking for me, the church and all? It was my foot prints on the ground. I just, uh, I climbed into a tree and, well, when I first saw you, I thought that-" you pause for a second, a small smile appearing on your lips, "I thought you looked like a freaking creep with your mustache and all." you giggle when he lets out a chuckle.

" **D** amn, you're one hell of a girl, ya know that?" you don't say anything and just look out the window next to your seat knowing that he isn't waiting for an answer anyway, " **S** he hid on a fucking tree." you hear Simon whisper to himself and you can clearly tell that he's smiling, he's attitude relaxing you and putting you at ease.

Negan has been piercing holes in the back of your head all morning and the reason why you're riding with Simon and not with him is only because Faith seem to have sensed your uneasiness and she distracted Negan while you ran to Simon to ask him if you could ride with him and he gladly accepted which you weren't really ready for as he seemed genuinely happy about giving you a ride.

You know that you'll have to explain what's going on to Faith when you'll go back to the Sanctuary but, right now, you're just trying to enjoy a genuinely good moment with Simon. If someone would have told you that you'd end up looking up to him and actually befriend him weeks ago, you would have point them to the nearest asylum but you found out that he actually genuinely cares about you and that he truly respects you, plus he's actually pretty damn funny and nice when he allows himself to be his own person and not another one of Negan's yes man. 

" **S** o... You don't like my mustache, uh? Let's talk about that before we get into a conflict, young lady."

_yeah, he's definitely good in my book._

 

**1:00** **PM** **//**

You're finally here, wherever the hell "here" is, every vehicle stops and Negan's men start to jump out of the trucks they're pilled in, you're lucky to be riding in the front with the driver because Negan's workers always ride in trucks only reserved for the them to sit at the back of whenever they go out of the Sanctuary since Negan wants to keep the bigger trucks for supplies.

_yeah, why the fuck not, pile the people up but careful where you put my new fucking Chinese vases._

You scoff at the thought and quickly jump out of Simon's truck to directly run to Randall who's already waiting for you outside with his hand out for you to grab and Connor by his sides, chatting with Arat.

" **H** ey, sweet pea." he smiles when you grab his hand and he carefully brings you down and into his arms, " **S** o, what d'you think of Simon's sweet jams?" he teases, clearly trying to keep from laughing.

" **Y** ou freaking knew? You're the worst, Randall!"

" **Y** eah," you hear Arat say next to you, "Simon has awful music in his truck, his radio is busted and it's stuck on this crappy station but he says that he rather listens to musical shit than be in complete silence, y'know?"

" **O** h." you say quietly, surprised because Simon's never really stroked you as the type of man who doesn't enjoy silence.

You hear hands loudly clapping together and you know that it means that Negan is about to give yet another one of his completely useless and overused speech about how useless everyone is and how he wants everyone to work their ass off to bring him some new shiny toys.

_fuck you too buddy..._

You look around as Negan keeps on talking endlessly and you spot Connor all by himself which you find odd, he's usually always making people laugh with stupid puns or at least talking to someone.

" **C** -Connor? Are y-you okay?"

" **O** h, hey there, princess, yeah- Yeah, I uh, I'm all good. You?" he asks, his mind clearly somewhere else.

" **I** \- I'm okay. Hey, you- You know that i-if you ever need anything, to talk or anything else, I'm here for you, alright?"

" **T** hanks, sweetheart, I'll remember that but I'm okay, I promise."

_i don't fucking believe you._

" **A** -alright then."

 

 **3:15** **AM** **//**

The groups have been made, you're with Randall, Connor, three other dudes that you don't know the last thing about and Simon, you feel pretty damn good about being outside and the small town you're in is pretty quiet. You've already took down six or seven walkers by now and Simon has officially crowned you the "walker slayer" of the group.

Right now, you're all taking a time out and you're sitting on an old rusty bench away from the rest of the group with Randall as he's smoking a cigarette.

" **S** 'being pretty damn quiet today, kinda weird, uh?"

" **Y** eah, don't jinx us, Chicago boy."

" **T** hat my new official nickname now, sweet pea?" he asks with a smile as he takes another drag out of his cigarette.

" **Y** up, better get used to it, Chicago boy."

" **W** ay ahead of you."

You both laugh and enjoy the comfortable silence that slowly takes place between the two of you until Randall's laugh breaks it, " **I** t's like we're on a date." he says with a giggle.

" **P** ff, laaaaame." you say with a smile and slightly reddening cheeks.

" **O** h, c'mon, could be worse."

" **Y** eah, I guess... Sure could be better though."

" **Y** eah, you're right." he admits with a chuckles, " **I** never was too good with dates. Hell, I don't even fucking know how the hell I ended up getting engaged."

" **W** hat was she like?" you ask a little too quickly, your curiosity once again getting the best of you.

" **W** ell-"

" **S** -sorry, you don't have to talk about her i-if you don't want to. I'm sorry, that was s-stupid of me, Randall."

" **N** o, no, sweet pea. It's all good." he looks down at you as he's sitting on back of the bench, his feet next to you as you're sitting on the actual bench, " **S** o, she was the same age as me, pretty tall, she had adorable freckles covering her face, she hated them so much but I loved 'em." he chuckles, clearly reminiscing, " **S** he fucking left me the day before our wedding because she got nervous and, shit, she ran off with my best mate, simple as that."

Your expression falls and you look down at the ground beneath your feet, sadly playing with the hem of your t-shirt, unsure of what to say, " **T** -that's terrible. I'm sorry, Randall. You didn't deserve that."

" **T** hanks, sweet pea, but you don't have shit to be sorry for, don't worry about it."

Multiple gunshots make the two of you jump out of your skin and you both immediately grab your weapons, you tightly grab your bow and Randall gets a firm grip on his ax, a gun tugged in the waistband of his jeans just in case.

You both run towards the gunshots and find Negan and some of his men fighting a fucking sea of walkers, you panic and start looking around, trying to spot Connor and you let out a sigh of relief when you finally spot him fighting walkers off. Grabbing your bow, you pull an arrow out and lift it up to your shoulder height, straightening your back and taking a deep breath before starting to aim at the rotten reanimated corpses roaming around, excited to see and smell fresh flesh.

You all spend a good fifteen minutes fighting the small herd off, you're out of breath and completely covered in blood, adrenaline is pumping through your veins and the sun is already starting to set which means that you've been fighting the dead off for way longer than you originally thought.

" **A** lright, c'mon people, let's fucking go home, enough of this shit."

You spot the two other groups of Negan's men that were still scavenging the area -despite the fact that you clearly could have used more hands here- walking towards the trucks and everyone else follows Negan back to the trucks to help load the supplies in.

" **H** ey, [y/n]-" you hear Connor's voice behind you and you quickly turn around, smiling at him, happy that he's talking to you, " **L** ook, about earlier, you said that I could talk to you if I-"

" **C** -" you don't even get to start calling his name when the walker you've just spotted behind him sinks its teeth right into the crook of his neck. Your upper body shakes violently as your breath gets caught in your throat, " **N** -no, no, no, no! Connor, no!"

You shove the walker off of your friend and clumsily sink the sharp end of one of your arrows into its putrefied skull, tears streaming down your face as you crawl over to Connor who's now laying on the hard ground, holding his huge, wide open bite wound with both of his hands, whimpering in pain.

" **N** EGAN! NEGAN HELP! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP!" you cry out and bring your attention back to Connor, pushing his hands away from his wound to take over and apply pressure on it, your heart breaking at the squealing sound of your hands making direct contact with his exposed flesh as blood profusely sips through your fingers, " **I** -it's okay, it's okay, I- I can fix you, you just- You stay with me, okay, Connor? P-please, please don't go, pl-please don't do this to me, it's okay, yo-you're gonna be okay."

" **I** 'll tell y-your dad you-you say hi, p-princess. I'll- I'll tell him, I p-promise." he mumble with a small smile and a shaking voice as his hand weakly reaches up to grab your shaking one as you keep on applying pressure on his wound, " **I** -I'm- I'm s-so f-fucking gl-glad that I- I got t-to h-have you i-in my- my life, princess. Y-you'll al-always be m-my fav-favorite b-but just-just don't- don't tell, Randall." he says with weak a laugh which makes him cough and his smile gets a little wider for a quick second.

" **W** ha-what the hell happened? Connor?! What the fuck! Connor!" Randall runs up to you and Connor's body, tears filling his eyes when he spots the lifeless body of his best friend laying on the floor right next to you.

" **I** \- I didn't- I t-tried to- I-" you put your right hand on your mouth to keep your sobs from coming out but it's too no avail as they still make your entire body shake, " **H** e-he's g-gone? Is he- He's- He's g-gone? R-Randall?"

" **I** \- Y-Yeah, he- He's gone, sweet pea."

" **B** -but- But- He.. He p-promised, Randall, he promised!" you panic and start shaking Connor's body left and right, trying to get him to wake up though the rational part of your mind knows it's not gonna happen, " **P** -please, no! No, no, no! G-give him b-back, pl-please! P-please, please, please." your head falls on Connor's chest which is no longer moving up and down to the rhythm of his heart, there's nothing left but your memories of him now.

You keep on crying into Connor's chest, your hands clinging to his blood soaked shirt until a pair of strong hands pull you away from him, making you cry out in protest.

"[ **Y** /n], baby, listen to me." You hear Negan speak to you but keep on struggling to get out of his hold and tend back to Connor before he grabs your face with his hands and keeps your eyes on his, " **W** e- Fuck, we need to make sure he won't come back, alright? You know that, that's what he fucking wanted, he fucking told me so, alright?"

You're about to nod your head yes when you hear a really familiar grunting sound behind you and you know that it means Connor is back and it feels like you've lost all sense of danger as you pry yourself away from Negan's grip and quickly get back on the ground right next to Connor which is now looking at you hungrily and, yes, you know this isn't him but you need this, you need to say goodbye.

"[ **Y** /n]-" you hear Negan warn behind you but you ignore him and focus on Connor.

" **I** 'm sorry, Conny, it's my fault, I- I should have- Oh my God, I miss you so much already. I'm gonna miss my friend, I'm gonna miss the goofy man that could always make me laugh no matter what," you pause as Connor starts to snap his jaw towards you and you have to push him away, " **I** 'm gonna miss you so much, Conny." you push your forehead against his as he keeps on snapping his teeth at you, his hands tightly wrapped around your arms, " **I** \- I hope t-that you're at peace now, that y-you're somewhere where you don't have to be scared anymore, you deserve it, Connor, so much. I- I love you, Conny. I'm so sorry." you shakily reach for the knife Randall's shaky hand is holding out for you to take and you both share a look and a nod.

Clench your eyes shut, you take the knife from Randall, his hand closing on yours for a second to give it a squeeze before he lets go of you and you bring your attention back to Connor, Faith gently keeping his shoulders pinned to the road and she gives you a small smile and a sharp nod before nothing makes sliding the sharp blade through your friend's temple, forcing more than you usually have to since his body didn't even have the time to get cold before he turned, any easier. None of it.

After planting a soft kiss on Connor forehead the second his body went limp, you slowly get back up on shaky legs, Negan, Simon, Dwight, Arat, Randall, Faith and the others are all standing right in front of you but you ignore them and just rush into Randall's arms, crying your heart out into his chest as he wipes away his own tears and gently coos you, trying to calm you down and reassure you but it's hard for the both of you right now. Especially when you're soaking in your newly deceased friend's blood.

Negan just stands there, watching as you cry your little heart out into another's man arms and he has to admit that he envies Randall's position, he envies being able to be there for you when you feel down and he never felt that before but, somehow, he doesn't really mind that craving, he's just frustrated because it can't be satisfied at the moment but he knows that he's the only one to blame for that.

Last night made him think and what happened right now, with Connor, definitely did something to him because, for an awful second, when he heard you calling out for help, he lost his shit, dropped what he was doing and rushed to you, afraid that something might have happened to you.

What if it would have been you and not Connor? He can't even bring himself to think about it, he hates to even think about thinking about you getting hurt, hell, he'll lost his shit if he ever sees you so much as getting a fucking paper cut, fuck... He actually loses his damn mind every time he spots the cuts on your forearm. He fucking care so much about you and he knows that he needs to change shit if he wants to regain your trust because letting you walk away from him last night was the worst thing he's ever let happen. 

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 **FLASHBACK** **//** **13 y/o OFC** **//**   **TWO YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK** **//**

Your ears are buzzing, your stomach turned into a huge knot, your throat is clenched shut and your eyes are full of tears ready to roll down your face as both of your fists are clenched shut, one tightly gripping a metallic baseball bat.

There's glass shattered all over the place as your house fell victim of your frustration and pain. You're breathing heavily, sobs are uncomfortably rocking your body and, as you look around the house, you realize just how much damage you've done; your couch is turned upside down, a bunch of windows are completely destroyed, vases are broken to pieces on the floor, the flowers living in them laying right next to the shattered pieces on the carpet covering the floor, your t.v is smashed, there's an even bigger mess of shattered glass in your kitchen as you destroyed all the poor dishes you could get your hands on and, in the middle of this whole mess, there's Luna leaning against the threshold of the living room, waiting for you to calm down and to let everything you need out.

" **I** \- I can't-" you look at her from the living room, tears rolling down your face and showing no signs of stopping, " **I** can't- I can't have k-kids? I can't- Luna-"

" **D** arling, I know. I'm sorry." she softly coos as she carefully makes her way towards you, pieces of glass cracking beneath her shoes.

" **I** \- I don't- Why can't I- What's wrong with me?"

" **I** t's not your fault, honey. It happens, the doctor told you-"

" **I** don't care what the doctor said, Luna!" you step away from her and throw your baseball bat on the floor angrily, " **M** y mom was right about me, I'm a pathetic pile of crap, Luna." you let a nervous laugh and turn back around to look at your friend, tears still flowing out of your eyes, " **I** can't have kids, Luna! I can't do the one thing women are supposed to be able to naturally do! I'm _that_  pathetic." you finish with the same nervous laugh.

" **I** did not just hear that, you did not just say that, [y/n]." for the first time since you've met her, Luna raises her voice, " **T** hat's enough, forget about your mother, she's gone and, even though I hate to say it, it's for the best. She messed you up so badly. She made you so insecure that you can't forgive yourself for things that you're not even supposed to feel guilty for in the first place, love!" she steps closer to you and gently grabs your face to make you look up at her, both of her thumbs softly coming down on your cheeks to wipe away a few tears as she gives you a gentle smile, " **N** ot being able to have kids? It doesn't make you a failure and it sure as shit doesn't make you less of a freaking woman. There's lots of women who never have kids either because they don't want to or because their body is not able to and guess what? Both these scenarios are perfectly valid and okay. I'm so sorry that you have to go through yet another hardship, it's unfair, God, I know, baby girl, I know, but you'll get through it, like you always do." she kisses your forehead and brings you into her arms, hugging you tightly, " **I** 'm so sorry, my darling, I really am. I know it's unfair but, you'll see, some day, you'll finally get the life that you deserve so damn much and you'll be so happy none of this will matter."

" **P** romise?" you whisper into the crook on her neck, her smell making you feel at home.

" **P** romise." she lets a small moment go by and softly ask, " **D** id you want kids, darling? Is that why you're so hurt?"

" **I** -" you get out of her embrace and look at her, " **I** never- I never really thought about it, y'know? I just-" a forced laugh slips past your lips as your head drops down to look at the glass shatters covering the floor, " **I** always thought that- That I was too young to even think about it but- Yeah, I guess- I guess it doesn't matter anymore." you look up and force a smile which Luna is quick to wipe away as she brings you back into her arms and you let yourself cry, cuddled up against her.

" **L** ife is a bitch but karma is way worse, darling, you'll see." she softly says with a small smile, making you smile a little as well, " **O** ne day, you'll be happy as can be, no matter what, it'll happen, I know it will. You'll have your turn and if life doesn't want to hand it to you, you'll fucking go and make your own kind of happiness, love."

" **I** love you." you whisper against her skin.

" **I** love you too, [y/n], so much. You deserve so much better than what life has been given you, honey. Promise me you won't let anything nor anyone hurt you like this anymore."

" **C** ross my heart and hope to die." you whisper softly, closing your eyes and waiting for your heartbeat to slow back down.

 

**_*Hi, yes, uh, this is your hardcore feminist author and I'm here to remind you that; no, you weren't "made" for no man. You're yours and that's forever, gurl. This is important, please, always remember that. You don't dress for boys, you don't wear make up for them and you sure as shit weren't made for nor to please them._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I know this chapter is shorter than usual but do not worry citizens, I shall post again this weekend, do not fucking worry, why are you worrying, stop that.  
> THE "RELATIONSHIP" WITH RANDALL WILL BE TEMPORARY, JUST LET IT HAPPEN. IT'S FREAKING NECESSARY FOR THE STORY, BE NICE, PRETTY PLEASE, I'LL GIVE YOU FOOD, I LUV YOU.
> 
> So, hi, how are you? We should talk about Rick Grimes, yeah, we definitely should do that, like, all day and all night long, yeah... He's fucking amazing I'm so proud of him, he's such a precious, murderous, smol bean and he must be protected at all cost, yeah, he's smol, so smol. I really luv him.
> 
> Seriously though, if you don't like Rick Grimes then you were born as my natural enemy and I'll be under your bed tonight whispering "stuff Lori... thaaaaaaaaaaangs." ... cos I'm not violent so, like, I just annoy the shit outta people when I don't like them... FEAR ME (ง'̀-'́)ง
> 
> ANYWAY! Besides the fact that my Rick Grimes addiction is getting more and more out of hand, what is up lil baby cupcakes? I hope you're all doing amazing, if not, eat some ice cream and watch Adventure Time, it'll make you happy and clear your skin... okay, maybe ice cream won't be so good for your skin... or maybe it will.  
> note; put ice cream on stupid face and see what happens.  
> ps; if I die, tell my mom that I'm still bitter about Glenn's death. (and Lori's, and Andrea's, and Beth's, and T-Dog's, and Hershel's, and Abraham's, and Denise's... I shouldn't have started this, now I shall die writing this list, god damn it.)
> 
> MOOOOOVING ON!  
> If you guys would like to see a specific interaction, have more focus on a certain character or anything else that comes to your mind, let me know so I can try and make it happen.
> 
> I love you, all of you, you're all precious and you all deserve a beautiful life. You're worth everything no matter how hard it is for you to believe. I luv you lil angels.
> 
>  
> 
> PS; The chapters are gonna become more and more sexual... for science cos I fucking love science if you didn't know. So, yeah, I seriously hope that you all have read the freaking tags before getting into this story... if not you must already be freaked out by the constant use of the word "daddy"... eheh, kinky shit is kinky.


	14. Two Little Horns & An Halo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little update; I'm still a freaking mess, I'm super tired and my headaches are taking way too much space for me to be able to write for too long atm.
> 
> anyway, I hope you guys'll like this chapter. I'm gonna be a hundred percent honest with you here; I freaking hate the previous chapter, I feel like utter crap about it, I just hate it and I'm pretty sure that you guys didn't like it either so, yeah, I'm sorry (?)  
> I'm sorry, I just don't know how I feel about anything nowadays, nothing personal, I'm just a mess with legs (ಥ_ಥ)
> 
> but, yeah, anyway! I love you, stay safe lil cupcakes.

All it took was a small second of inattention from Negan for you to run off when he ordered for everyone to stop to go and spend the night in one of the Saviors' safe-zones, the sun setting way too quickly for you to reach the Sanctuary before complete darkness.

You don't know why you ran off -again-, it just happened. Everyone was getting out of their trucks, heading to the small yet well protected place Negan decided you'll spend the night in and you were about to head inside as well but you couldn't bring yourself to get out of the vehicle you were in.

Eventually, you took a sharp intake of breath, unbuckled your seat-belt and jumped out of the big truck, looking around, you immediately spotted Randall leaning against a concrete wall, Negan right in front of him as they talked about what you assumed to be what happened to Connor just a two hours ago.

Just looking at Randall made your heart ache, you felt like shit about the whole situation. You dropped your head down, a single tear escaped your eyes only to meet the concrete covered ground beneath your feet.

Your hands came into your sight and you let a gasp out as you finally realized that both of your hands were completely covered in Connor's blood. Your whole body started to shake out of control again, Connor's voice ringing through your ears, the sound of his flesh being ripped from his neck invading your mind and the whole scene started to play over and over again right in front of you, leaving you a mess.

How the hell are you supposed to live with that? You were right there yet you failed to protect your friend and it cost him his life. You had to witness it because you couldn't prevent it from happening, you killed him. You've put him down and now that you think about it, maybe, just maybe, Randall may actually have wanted to be the one to do so, Connor was his best friend after all and he didn't even get to say goodbye.

_i'm so selfish, what was i even trying to prove..._

You were out of everyone's sight as you're standing behind Simon's giant truck, no one could see you and it was your one chance to take Negan out of your life and go back to being your very own person, not someone's toy, not someone's "employee", not his " _doll_ ". You could go back to being yours and only yours, that's all you're asking for, that's all you really wanted; your freedom.

And so that's what you did, you went for it and simply walked away to get lost into the thick woods on the side of the road. You know one of Negan's man saw you as you heard him whistle and call his boss quickly after you just stepped into the forest and you're pretty damn sure that you've heard Negan calling out for you and you couldn't help but to hear the smirk in his voice.

_cocky prick..._

 

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Looking down at your watch,it reads **2:00 AM**. You sigh and sink further against the hollow trunk behind your back, a shiver running down your spine as the cold of the night starts to really get to you.

You've been running for eight hours now, you're exhausted, hungry and thirsty but you take comfort in the fact that you actually got away from him. Sure there's still a chance for him to actually find you pretty damn quick as he has something you don't; vehicles and a whole goddamn group of armed people, but it doesn't discourage you. You're strong, strong enough that you don't need a gun nor to always be afraid of every little sound you hear.

You thank your lucky star when you recall keeping the warm, fuzzy, blanket Jesus gave you when you left Hilltop inside of your backpack. You quickly reach for your denim bag and clumsily take the black duvet out to wrap yourself up in it, sighing in comfort when the soft fabric makes contact with your bare arms.

_you should have stole a damn jacket girl, seriously, you're wearing a freaking t-shirt right now, it's cold as balls out here._

" **Y** eah, a jacket would be nice right now." you whisper to yourself, your jaw starting to snap.

If you could, you would so bury your face underneath your blanket and let yourself sleep for the next ten years but you know that you can't, not when you're out here, on the ground, vulnerable and easy for walkers and people to reach. You're too tired to climb on a tree, you thought about it, hell, it's the first thing you tried to do when you decided that you were far enough from Negan and his men but your body didn't seem to agree with you on that one and you couldn't even manage to lift yourself up above the ground.

You hear leafs cracking and carefully reach for your butterfly knife, which you may have sneaked into Negan's truck to get back earlier today, and get a tight and sturdy hold it before getting up off the ground, letting your blanket fall off of your shoulders, your body shivering at the loss of warmth.

You try and listen for any kind of heavy breathing or groans to try and identify the source of the noise as a simple walker roaming around but you don't hear anything like that, you only hear leafs cracking and branches snapping beneath someone or something's weight.

You squint your eyes, trying to examine the area surrounding you but it's so dark that you can't see a damn thing at least until a small light pierces through the trees, making you shake slightly, afraid that it might actually be Negan or one of his men out looking for you.

You quickly turn around, pick up your blanket and shove it back inside your backpack before putting clumsily putting it back on your shoulders. But, as you turn back around to look back at the light and to check if it got any closer, a squeal escapes your mouth as you make direct contact with someone's chest and you immediately try to take a step back but an oddly gentle grip on your right forearm keeps you from doing so.

" **L** et go!"

" **H** ey, hey, hey, it's me! [Y/n], it's me, it's Jesus."

You look up with teary eyes, your chest quickly going up and down, to find Jesus' soft and reassuring smile, his facial expression showing worry and relief, " **J** -Jesus?"

" **Y** es, my child?" he responds with a small smile, clearly proud of his own joke and trying to hold back his laughter until he hears you giggle as you gently shove into his chest. A few tears roll down your face and you quickly curl yourself up against his chest, " **S** 'good to see you too, kiddo." he gently says, kissing the top of your head.

You two stay like that for a few minutes before you reluctantly let of of him to look up at his face. You can see his smile in the light of his flashlight and you immediately feel safe even though you're still out in the middle of a forest, in plain sight and the cold of the night is cutting into your skin.

" **P** aul, I-"

" **W** e'll talk tomorrow, yeah? Right now, we need to get you warmed up and you need to get some sleep."

" **H** -how did you- How-"

" **H** ow did I find you?" he asks with a small smile, you nod your head yes, " **S** weetheart, you're, like, five minutes away from Hilltop. I saw movements in the woods and I wanted to check it out, figured it might be you."

_five minutes away from... hilltop? damn, how did you not realize?_

" **L** et's go, yeah? No offense, but, it's seriously cold out here."

You nod your head again and take his hand, following him as he leads you out of the woods for you two to end up right in front of Hilltop's gates. He asks the men guarding the gates to let you two in and he leads you inside, the gates closing behind you.

He silently walks you to one of those temporary installations that you assume they use as small houses now, like the one doctor Carson uses and works in or the one you always end up in whenever you come around.

He open the door and lets you in first, stepping in after you and closing the door behind him, leaning against it, watching you as you curiously look around the small room, a smile on his face.

" **Y** ou ran off again, [y/n]." he says more stating a fact than asking a question but you still nod your head yes.

You shyly walk over to the bed sitting on a left corner of the room, sitting down on it and looking down at your bloody hands, tears starting to fill your eyes again." **I** ,uh- C-Connor- Connor i-is- He- he's gone."

He lets out a small sigh and you hear him walking towards you. He pulls a chair from the small dinning table in the middle of the small room and drags it directly in front of you, sitting down on it before carefully taking your shaking hands in his.

" **W** hy do I get the feeling that you're blaming yourself again, [y/n]?"

" **I** -I fr-froze, I-" you let out a shaky breath, " **I** saw it a-and I- I got scared, I p-panicked and he- he died be-because of it."

You keep your head down as you speak to Jesus, you're exhausted and you don't think you've ever felt so bad about yourself in your entire life... Or maybe you have, you don't really give a shit at the moment, all you know is that; you feel like utter crap.

" **T** hat's not how things work, [y/n]." he gently lift your head up with his left hand, making you look up at him, " **A** nd you know that, you're a really smart girl, I know you know." he leans forward and kisses your forehead, " **N** ow, you go take a shower if you want, crawl under these blankets, get a good night sleep and, if you want, we'll talk tomorrow, deal?"

" **O** -okay." you get off of the bed and kiss his cheek, " **T** hank you, Jesus."

" **Y** ou're always welcome here, you know that." he gives you a genuine smile and teasingly pinches your cheek, making you giggle, " **N** ow go get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow. You're safe here, I promise."

" **I** know." you softly say with a small yet sincere smile.

" **O** h, and, don't hesitate to lock the door if it can make you feel safer." he says as he walks towards said door, " **P** lus, it's kind of a way to tell Harlan to go away when he comes to wake you up with one of his weird songs." he adds with a small chuckle, making you laugh along, " **G** oodnight, [y/n]."

 **"G** oodnight, Paul."

He flashes you one last smile and gets out of the room, leaving you to yourself. You're not sure how to describe what you're feeling right now but you do know that it's positive, you feel safe and it's such a welcome change for you.

You take your watch off and gently put it down on the nightstand next to the bed you'll be sleeping in tonight before running to the bathroom, craving a warm shower more than anything else at the moment because, believe it or not, having Connor's blood on your skin and clothes is not making things any easier for you right now.

_weird, uh?_

 

 **2:50** **AM** **//**

After a few minutes of intense showering, slightly crying as the blood on your skin felt as if it was here to stay, you finally get out, dry your body and your hair before slipping into a really fluffy black hoodie with a fuzzy white fabric on the inside that was waiting for you inside the small dresser beside a tall mirror in the bedroom. You decided not to wear anything but your panties tonight and, yes, it's such a small little detail but it makes you happy because it's been a long, long, while since you've felt comfortable enough in a place to be able to let yourself sleep in your underwear like you grew up doing.

You blush as a high pitched squeal comes out of your mouth when you stretch out of fatigue, a giggle making its way past your lips afterwards and make your way over to the bed to crawl underneath the thick and seriously warm blanket waiting for you there, a purr escaping you as your back hits the most comfortable mattress you've ever been on. Or, at least, close second. Negan's definitely the one on top of the list.

You turn the small light on the nightstand off and turn to your side, looking out the window on the wall in front of you, there's a few small fire outside to give the people guarding the place some light, the flames appease you and, soon enough, a small yawn gets past your lips, your eyes flutter shut as they get heavy with sleep but Negan's cocky tone as he was calling out for you when you ran off is taunting you and you have to force your eyes to stay close through the frustrating thoughts of him.

It's like it became a game to him, letting you run around just to get a hold of you again, to hurt you and make you more vulnerable than you previously were. Well, if it's a game to him it isn't for you, this whole situation is hurting you, _he's_ hurting you, he's destroying the things you've had the hardest times to rebuilt after everything you've been through and it's unfair.

People always say that you can't repair a broken mirror without cutting yourself or without ending up with missing pieces, well, you did get cut, a whole freaking lot, and you've never got back some of your most important missing pieces so, the question is; why should Negan get to destroy that? Who the hell is he to even criticize it? Who is he to judge you or to tell you who you truly are?

You can't deny that the day he made you kill that man, it's like he stepped all over you and broke the mirror all over again, making the pieces even smaller and fragile this time around. And now- Now you can't even seem to be able to find any of them anymore, you can't find your missing pieces, he stole you from yourself.

You're not sure of anything anymore, hell, you never were the most confident person about your decisions or your appearance before, but now? Now it's all tangled up and you've never felt so damn vulnerable. Your mind hurts and it's the worst kind of pain there is to you, you'll trade it for the most intense physical pain there is if you could, without hesitation.

With those heavy thoughts, you end falling heavily asleep, your head aching and you know tomorrow morning will be tough.

 

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**10:00** **AM** **//**

Your eyes gently flutter open, a small yawn getting pushing past your lips and you hear a deep chuckle echoing in the room, making you jump and sit straight up on the mattress you've been sleeping on, your eyes widening when you spot Negan sitting down on a chair around the wooden dinning table a few feet away from the bed you've spend the night in.

" **W** h-"

" **Y** ou're one hell of an heavy sleeper when you're tired, baby girl." he says with a chuckle, clearly amused by your confusion.

_how the hell did he get here? what the fuck! are we seriously doing this again? this is seriously getting ooooold._

You shyly bring your legs up against your chest underneath the blankets covering your body as you're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're not wearing a bra and that the only thing covering your lower body underneath that blanket is a pair of freaking Batman panties.

You look at the table he's seated at and you spot a box of cereals, bowls, two spoons, glasses and what you assume to be orange juice and milk.

_is he seriously waiting for you to get up and have breakfast with him? is he fucking serious right now?_

" **Y** ou hungry, baby girl?" he asks and you quickly shake your head no but your stomach betrays you and lets out an embarrassingly loud growl, making Negan laugh and making you blush furiously, " **S** ee, that, that right there is your stomach telling you to fuck off with your lil' lies, dolly."

_good god, shut the fuck up already, seriously..._

You hear him getting up and your head immediately snaps up, your body curling up and pushing itself further into the bed, trying to create as much distance as possible between him and you.

He ignores your silent protest and roughly snatches the blanket covering your body away from you making you whimper in protest as you push your legs further into your chest, now completely exposed to him, a dark, crimson red creeping on your cheeks.

" **U** p and fucking at 'em, baby girl." he extends his hand out to you but you're too focused on watching his eyes which are glued to the back your fleshy thighs and the outline of your butt.

He sighs when he realizes that you still haven't moved and he grabs your forearm, dragging you out of your bed, his chest keeping you from falling face first when your feet clumsily hit the floor, " **H** ey there, pretty baby." between his low voice and the smirk on his lips, you're almost certain that there's smoke coming out of your cheeks from all the blushing you've got going on.

" **H** -hi, Ne-Negan."

He lets out yet another chuckle before taking your hand and walking you to the table where breakfast is waiting for you and you can't help but compare his touch to Jesus'. It's just so different, Paul is full of good attentions and it shows in his gestures but, Negan? You never know with this man, he can be sweet and carrying then, in a blink of an eye, turn into the worst person you'll ever come across and it scares you just how much as it intrigues you.

_curiosity kills the cat, uh?_

He sits you down on the chair and walks to the opposite side of the table, sitting right in front of you making you highly uncomfortable, this is way too intimate for your liking, you fucking hate it actually.

_please ground, swallow me already for fuck's sake...._

" **C** -can we- Can we o-open the window, p-please?" you ask, pulling at your fingers. You just want the noises from outside to help and break the awkward tension you're feeling right now.

" **N** ah, doll, you're gonna have to get used to this anyway."

_yeah sure- wait, what d'he say?_

" **W** -what?"

" **F** rom now on, you'll take ever single damn meal with me so that I can make sure that you fucking eat and, on the plus side, it'll give us a chance to spend some quality time together."  he states with the same damn cocky smirk on his lips, making you want to jump on him from across the table to stab him with your spoon and make him choke on milk, but his tone leaves no room for arguing.

_please define quality time 'cause i highly fucking doubt that we have the same damn definition for it..._

He drags a bowl right in front of you and pours some cereals in it before pouring milk on them, well, at least he's about to but you spot him by shoving your bowl of cereals away, making him sigh and glare at you.

" **I** -I'm not hungry, t-thanks t-though."

" **S** ure you're not." he says, his voice clearly showing some anger by now as he drags the bowl filled with cereals right in front of you again and pours milk on them before shoving a spoon in it, " **E** at." he orders harshly making a single tear roll down your face.

" **I** 'm no-not- I can't-" you can't complete your sentence as a sob rips through you and you immediately hide your face inside your arms on the table, your body shaking along with your sobs, Negan watching you break down again, absently scratching his beard.

You flinch when you feel his hands on your waist as he lifts you up and brings you against his chest, your legs automatically snaking around his waist.

" **S** hh, hey, relax, baby. M'sorry I raised my damn voice, didn't mean to make you cry." he coos in your ear, slightly rocking you in his arms and you feel oddly safe against him.

" **I** just- I-." you yet again fail to complete your thought but he doesn't seem to mind.

You feel him moving the two of you around and you end up sitting on his thighs as he sits down at the table again, dragging your bowl of cereals to him and getting a spoon full before bringing it up to your mouth and you know better than to argue when you look at him and looks right back at you. You slightly open your mouth and let him feed you, your stomach growling in content as its finally being fed properly for the first time in months.

This moment is oddly relaxing, he makes conversation with you, avoiding touchy subjects and mainly making awful jokes to then make fun of you when you choke on your food as he makes you laugh.

When the bowl is half empty, he lets you go as he can clearly tell that you've had enough and he doesn't want to push you any further, he's just glad that you ate at least the strict minimum. He always wonders how you've made it this far with how hard of a time you're having to simply feed yourself, the most common of things is a challenge to you yet he's seen you do way harder things.

You clumsily get off of his laps, making him laugh and groan as you press yourself right on his cock when you do and you quickly stop moving when you hear him groan, afraid that you might have hurt him but he quickly lifts up and gently puts you back down on the ground, teasingly squeezing one of your butt cheeks, making you blush as a whimper involuntarily escapes past your lips.

You get away from him and start walking towards the small dresser in the room to finally put some pants on but Negan tsks disapprovingly as he sips some orange juice, eyeing you from his chair at the table. You turn back around and look at him, confused as to what you're doing wrong.

" **D** on't." he finishes his glass of orange juice and gets up, " **Y** ou'll put your pants on when I'll be done with you, not a single second before, doll. Here," he nods towards your messy bed, "take a sit, we need to talk."

_yay, here's the; why the fuck did you run away again, speech, as if he doesn't fucking know._

You silently sit down at the top of the bed, crossing your legs and pulling your hoodie to bring it down to your knees to cover your bare thighs. Following you, Negan takes a seat on the chair next to your bed, facing you, the same one Jesus sat sitting in last night.

"You can't keep run away from me, [y/n]. I don't know about you but I'm seriously gettin' bored of this lil' stupid fucking game we keep playin'."

 _why does everything you do always has to be a game to him? fuck you buddy_.

You don't say anything, knowing damn well that you'll snap if you open your mouth, hell, you might even end up slapping his face off again.

" **W** hat happened to Conny boy is a damn shame but fucking hell, doll-"

" **D** on't." you cut him with a strict voice you didn't know you had, " **D** on't talk about him, don't mention him, don't say his name just leave him alone, Negan. Leave _me_ alone."

" **S** ee, the damn thing with you, baby girl, is that you don't seem to fucking understand that I'm in charge here."

" **Y** ou're not in charge of shit when it comes to me, Negan." you can feel anger running through your veins, his attitude pushing you over the edge once again as you get up from the bed and start passing around the room under his heavy stare, " **T** hat's why you always find new ways to make my life a living hell, isn't it?" you stop your pacing and look at him with glossy eyes, " **B** ecause you know damn well that you can't control me and order me around and you hate that, don't you? You hate not being in control, you hate the fact that there's still someone on this damned Earth that doesn't seem to break whenever you walk into a room, don't you? You fucking hate me, I'm just a stupid challenge for you, aren't I? And I'm right to say that you don't give a damn about me, aren't I?"

" **D** on't you fucking da-" he started, angry at the fact that you seriously think that he doesn't give a shit about you.

" **Y** ou hate the fact that I refuse to be another one of your brainless whores! Oh my God!" you let out a tired and angry laugh, " **I** hate you, Negan. In fact, I think I hate you just as much as you hate me." you finish, swallow the tears threatening the spill out of your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him again.

He gets up off his chair and walks towards you with a deep frown, anger filling his eyes. He keeps walking until he has you crushed between a wall and his body, his breath hitting your parted lips.

" **H** ere's what's gonna fucking happen now, baby. I'm gonna blame your lil' melt down on what happened yesterday and I'm gonna let it slide." he narrows his eyes at you and you hate to admit it but you feel ridiculously small under his stare, " **O** ne fucking day. I'm gonna give a whole goddamn day all to yourself, you're staying here for another night if you fucking want but tomorrow, when I come back for you, your ass better but right here, waiting for me like a good girl and you better not have another fucking crap attack, we fucking clear, lil' one?"

You try to answer him but your mouth just keeps on opening and closing without a single word and you're pretty sure that you must look like a fish out of water right now but Negan doesn't seem to pay attention to that at the moment, he's more interested in getting an answer out of you.

"[ **Y** /n], we clear?" he asks one more time.

" **C** -crystal cl-clear." you say quietly, slightly nodding your head yes whilst looking down at his boots and the socks covering your feet.

You feel his nose bumping into yours and you lift your eyes up to meet his, curious to see if his expression softened a little and it did, not at whole lot, but it definitely did.

His forehead ends up against yours and his lips are resting on yours, not kissing you just yet but it's so close it makes you want to cry. You don't understand him sometimes, well, most of the time, really. He looked like he was about to crush you in the palm of his hand a few seconds ago and now he's back to being gentle and it's confusing the hell out of you but you're in too deep to even question it at this point.

_this back and forth is seriously energy draining, it's unfair 'cause we both know that he doesn't feel half the shit we feel..._

" **Y** ou're gonna fuckin' kill me someday, baby doll."

_let's hope so._

Your left hand shyly comes down on his chest, clinging tot his white t-shirt to bring him and little closer to you and he looks down at your small hand before looking back up at him, your needy gesture making him smirk. He takes a long look at you, silently asking for your permission to kiss you and you give him by grabbing the back of his neck and pushing his lips against yours, a needy noise slipping past your lips as your lips finally make contact.

You almost forgot how much you crave this man, no matter how badly he hurts you, no matter how insane he makes you, no matter how much you hate him and his cocky attitude, it seems like nothing he ever says or does is ever bad enough to cure you.

" **Y** ou should embrace 'em, baby girl." he suddenly says, briefly breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours but keeping his lips right on top yours as he speaks, " **Y** ou should embrace those two fucking lil' horns you've got beneath that lil' halo of yours, they suit you pretty damn well if you ask me." he finishes with a cocky grin and immediately goes back to kissing the breath out of your lungs, pushing his tongue past your slightly parted and swollen lips, making you whimper, your grip on his shirt tightening in a needy gesture.

_horns, uh? pretty sure they weren't there before we met him, just sayin'._

He possessively grabs your thighs and lifts you up for your legs to snake around his waist, immediately using the position you two are in to press his crotch into yours, making you jump and whimper into his mouth, your small hands roughly grabbing the back of his neck as you let all the frustration he's created out on him and he chuckles darkly into your mouth, clearly aware that you're beyond angry and frustrated because of him.

" **A** w, my lil' kitten's getting her claws out, uh?"

" **I** hate you, Negan." you say, out of breath, your cheeks a dark red and your lips swollen because of his rough kisses.

" **D** amn right you fucking do, sweetheart." he spits back, a cocky smirk drawn on his lips.

He roughly brings his lips back down on yours for yet another heated kiss, his hands starting to wander down your body, squeezing here and there, making you squeal against his lips and bite down on his bottom lip to pull at it greedily, making him grunt.

He finally moves you off of the wall and brings you down on the messy bed you've slept on, hovering over you, his lips never leaving yours as he does and the kiss only gets deeper and needier.

Your hands shyly slip underneath his t-shirt and you can feel him shivering at your touch, it's the first time you actually take the time to explore his body so you try to memorize every little detail your hands come across. You're actually surprise at how toned his stomach is, you can feel his muscles moving along with him as he keeps on kissing you. The envy to see him shirtless is almost overwhelming for you as you keep on touching his upper body.

But, just as his lips make contact with the skin of your throat, a loud banging on the door makes you jump and makes him grunt in frustration.

" **B** oss, we're all done and ready to go." Simon says behind the door, never opening it, knowing damn well he can't come in without Negan's authorization.

" **F** uckin' hell." he groans into your neck, sending a shivers down your spine, " **G** et your asses to the trucks, I'll be right fucking there." he barks for Simon to hear and you can only hear a quiet "alright, boss." afterwards.

Negan's head pops up right in front of yours, a smile on his lips as he examines your red cheeks and your puffy lips, he lets out a deep chuckle.

" **L** isten doll, you can either stay here 'til tomorrow or, well shit, you could always come back home with me right now and we fucking finish this." he says, gesture between your bodies with a tilt of his head.

" **I** \- I wanna s-stay here, pl-please?"

" **A** lright." he lets out a sigh, "Shit, alright, baby." he gets off of you, careful not to crush you with his weight in the process and stands back up in front of the bed as you slowly sit back up on the mattress, embarrassed at how far you've let this kiss go.

You watch as he swiftly grabs his leather jacket that he'd thrown on the small couch in the room before putting it on effortlessly and grabbing Lucille which is waiting for him right next to the door leading out of the room.

Your mind is invaded by the thought of him going back to the Sanctuary and running to one of his "wives" to help him get rid of his "frustration" and it makes your blood boil and your heart hurt like hell. You can't help the small sob that escapes your lips and it immediately catches Negan's attention.

He quickly turns around and walks back to you as you're still sitting on your bed, tears rolling down your cheeks at an alarming rate.

" **H** ey, shit, baby girl, what's goin' on with you?" he asks, worried that he might have taken a simple kiss too far and hurt you without realizing it.

" **I** \- I c-can't tell you." you say, your head dropping down as your hands nervously pull at the blankets beneath you but he's not having it, his right hand brings your head back up to force you to look at him.

"[ **Y** /n], princess, spit it out." he says with a small smile, understanding what's actually bothering and upsetting you so much, of course he knows and he gets off on it, he shouldn't be he can't help it. He fucking loves the though of you being possessive of him almost as much as he is of you, hell, if only you knew just how jealous he gets when another man gets too close to you for his liking.

" **F** orget it, Negan." you start, trying to show some confidence but you don't have any in stock at the moment so you have to fake it and, god, you're a bad liar, " **J** -just go back to your precious harem and forget about me, I'm sick of this shit."

Your false confidence might be a lie but your pain is way real. You wish that you could actually trust him instead of being too well aware of the fact that he's not the type to commit and that swiping you out of his life will be way too easy for him to do while you'll never be able to shake him the fuck off.

It makes you sick to even think about him with someone else and you hate what it means, you hate what your jealousy shows, you hate the way you feel about him, you hate the fact that there's not a damn thing you can do about it and that he'll never change a damn thing because he likes his lifestyle way too fucking much to look past his own bellybutton.

" **H** ey, baby." he brings your head back up for you to look at him and, once he's sure that you won't look away, he extends his pinkie finger to you, " **I** 'll keep my blue balls to myself," he starts, making you blush furiously as you recall awkwardly asking Jesus what the hell that meant and the answer kind of embarrassed you, "and, as a reward for being a real fucking gentleman, you let me make you a proper dinner and you'll spend the rest of the night with me, whatever the fuck you want it to mean, princess, I ain't gonna force you into anything, I don't do that kind of shit." he finishes more seriously, his pinkie waiting for yours to seal the deal but, instead, you let a small giggle out, happy about his approach on the situation, and grab the back of his neck to bring his lips back down on yours, making him smile against your lips. " **T** hat's a real fuckin' good way to seal a deal, baby doll, but you still gotta pinkie swear otherwise it ain't official." you blush and wrap your much smaller pinkie finger around his and he brings your face back to his to kiss you one more time.

" **T** hank you." you say barely above a whisper against his lips.

" **R** emember what I said about taking it step by step, doll? It didn't mean that I changed my fucking mind about you and what I want you to be. I'm an asshole that's for fucking sure, no questions asked here, but I honestly don't feel like fucking around with your lil' heart any more than people already fucking have, just so we're clear." another bang on the room's door interrupts you once again and Negan lets out a frustrated laugh, " **A** lright, baby girl, daddy's gotta go beat some fucking idiot's ass but you better believe that I'll be back for you first thing tomorrow morning."

" **Y** -yeah, alright."

" **I** don't fucking know what the hell you're doin' to me or why the fuck I'm feeling the way I do about you, princess, but- Fucking hell, one thing I do know? I don't fucking want you out of my fucking sight and I sure as shit don't want to fucking see you with another man- Y'know what? Scratch that, I don't ever want to see you with anyone else. Hell, I'm pretty sure it'll get ugly really fucking quick if that ever happened, angel face." he kisses your forehead and swings Lucille on his shoulder, winking at you before making his way to the door only to stop dead in his tracks and turn back around to look at you, chuckling when he sees the confusion on your face, "Oh, and, by the way, princess.-" he pauses and points at your butterfly knife resting on top of a pile of your clothes and you blush furiously when you remember than you're not supposed to have it, he does, "We'll have a talk about that when you'll get home but that shit easily warrants for a dozen spanks in my book, baby girl." he nonchalant says though you know to read the warning in his voice before walking out of the room, whistling the same soft song he always seems to whistle

Looking at your window, you watch him walk out through the open gates of the small village, flashing his middle finger at who you assume might be Gregory, the supposed leader of the community but Jesus says that he's the biggest coward there is.

You can't help but smile at the moment you've just shared with Negan, sure it got rocky there at the time and you can feel the odd pressure that his last words created in your belly but, talk of future punishment aside, this had to be one of the rare times you two actually managed to speak to each other without ending up almost killing one another and it actually resulted in... a date? Did Negan seriously give you a freaking date? This is so weird but you try not to think about it, your anxiety already doing a great job trying to ruin the way you feel with a ton of what-ifs and "he's playing you - again!".

You're starting to know Negan by now and the way he spoke to you just a few seconds ago is far from the Negan you're used to but he seemed truly genuine and that makes you anxious for some reason, you don't want to get hurt again yet you wish that you could just let yourself enjoy the fuzzy feeling you're feeling right now.

Luckily, a soft knock on your door snaps you out of your thoughts and you don't even have time to give whoever knocked permission to come in when they're already bursting in your room.

_ugh, great..._

" **H** ello, darling. I'm Gregory, I'm running things around here and since Negan told me that you'll be staying with us until tomorrow, here's some rules for you-"

" **D** amn it, Gregory-"a clearly pissed Jesus bursts into the room shortly after the older man but he stops his sentence when he sees that you're not even properly dressed, " **T** he girl's not even dressed yet, Gregory, what the hell! Get out." he pushes the old man out and apologize to you, clearly embarrassed before leaving you to get dressed.

_well, that was weird and awkward... also, definitely do not appreciate the way this old dude called us darling, it's creepy as all shit._

 

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 **12:30** **PM** **//**

You've spend the rest of your evening working at the garden with some really sweet people from the community and you have to admit that it was really nice to be able to interact with genuinely good people, people who care about each other's well being and comfort, you completely forgot what that felt like; being cared for.

Earlier this morning, Jesus asked you if you'd like to take your meal with him and, of course, you happily accepted.

You've just finished washing your hands in the common bathroom in Gregory's mansion, 'cause, yes, apparently the big ass mansion sitting in the middle of the village "belongs" to him.

_no wonders the guy doesn't get along with negan, seriously._

You walk out of the huge mansion and immediately spot Jesus waiting for you, sitting at a picnic table right beside your "house". You wave at him from the staircase and quickly make your way to him but a firm grip on your wrist keeps you from doing so. You turn around to identify whoever the fuck is holding you back and you let out a sigh when you see Gregory standing right behind you, a lighted cigar in his mouth.

_fucking shit, dude..._

" **I** believe we got off on the wrong foot you and I, darling." he nonchalantly says, not letting you go of your wrist, whilst taking a long drag out of his cigar, blowing the toxic smoke right in your face, making you cough, " **O** h, I take it you don't smoke, darling. Good, women shouldn't smoke, you see, I believe-"

_oh no you fucking don't._

" **O** h my fucking God, shut the fuck up already! And let go of me, old man." you harshly pull your wrist out of his grip and make your way to Jesus, a grimace on your face as the smell of the cigar sticks to your skin.

You spot a smile on Jesus' face as you get closer to him and it make you giggle a small bit. You sit down in front of him and cross your arms on your chest, " **G** o ahead, you butthole, laugh."

" **I** 'm sorry, [y/n]. I just can't-" he stops and finally lets go of the laughter he's been holding, "It's just- His fucking face, good God, karma is good."

You laugh along with him and after a while you both start to eat your meal in a comfortable silence, breaking it from time to time to talk about your morning.

That's all you really needed, a friend to talk to, a place to relax, a small moment to forget about everything.

" **S** o, you wanna talk about it, sweetheart?" he gently asks, referring to Connor and what happened yesterday.

" **W** -where do I start?"

" **W** ell, the beginning is always good." he says with a small smile, making you laugh softly, " **S** eriously though, I don't know. Begin wherever you want to begin, [y/n]. I have all the time in the world, I'm not going anywhere and this conversation stays between the two of us, promise."

" **A** lright- Shoot, okay... Alright." and so you start telling him, you tell him everything that weights heavy on your mind, not only what happened yesterday, you tell him about your past, about your parents, you tell him about Negan, you tell him everything you need to get out of your system and goddamn does it feel good. You don't feel judged and you're actually **not** being judged, he simply listens and embraces everything you give him.

 

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**4:00** **PM** **//**

It's just you and Paul in the completely empty and trashed streets, he somehow got you to come along in one of his supply run and, needless to say, after what happened yesterday you weren't really all that hot for it but he promised you that it'll only be the two of you and you know that he can handle himself out there so it reassured you a small bit.

Your knuckles are white as you're holding your bow with a firm hand, afraid to have a repeat of yesterday no matter how hard Jesus tries to comfort you and even though your little supply run have been nothing but a complete success so far, you both found a bunch of medical supplies, food, water, clothes and a bunch of other things, you even took a bunch of walkers out all by yourself.

" **O** ne of my closest friend died at the hands of Negan." he confesses out of nowhere, making your head snap up to look at him as you both keep on walking, " **W** hen he found us, he didn't mean us any harm, at least I don't think he was planning on killing one of us but I-" he pauses and looks down at you, stopping in his track, making you stop as well, " **B** ut I decided that we should fight back, people kept on telling me that it'll only get our people killed, that we weren't big enough of a number to fight against the Saviors but I guess I was completely blinded by anger, y'know? And I tried to play it smart when really all I was doing was digging my friend's grave."

" **W** h-what d'you do?"

" **D** oes it really matter? He died because of it, Negan said that the only reason why he didn't kill me is because he wanted me to stick around so that he could make my life a living hell. And, shit, believe it or not, it's not half as bad as I thought it'll be."

" **W** h-why are you telling me that for, Jesus?"

" **I** did something stupid because I was angry and someone else took the blow for me but I had to learn to forgive myself for that, [y/n]. Connor? He didn't die because you were being stupid or reckless, he died because you're a human being and you froze when panic took over you, there's no shame in that, there's no shame in being human. You didn't mean him any harm, it just happened and you can't keep blaming yourself for things you don't even have any control over, alright? I know it takes time but I also know that you'll only get there if you let yourself walk that way."

" **I** 'm so sorry about your fr-"

A groan interrupts you and you both turn your heads to scan the area, you're quick to spot a few walkers wandering around the streets so you swiftly take your bow out, aim at a specific walker and take your shot, the arrow straight going through its rotten skull as it falls limp on the road, finally lifeless, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as adrenaline starts to kick back into your body.

" **W** anna kick some butts before we go back, [y/n]?" Jesus asks with a small smile.

" **Y** ou bet." you answer with a small smirk.

 

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 **7:00** **AM** **//**

A knock on your door makes you jump as you're just out of the shower, only wearing one of Negan's white t-shirt he left you yesterday and a pair of panties, you panic when you hear the door of your room opening and closing. Your heart skipping a beat when you hear an all too familiar laugh.

You shyly get out of the small bathroom to be greeted by a grinning Negan, your cheeks immediately getting set on fire when his eyes wander up and down on your body.

" **G** ood fuckin' morning, baby girl."

" **H** -hi Ne-Negan, I- I uh, I'm n-not ready ju-just yet."

" **Y** eah, no shit, darlin'." he says with a deep chuckle, walking closer to you with a smirk, " **B** ut that's not fuckin' important, princess. Where the hell's my morning kiss?"

" **I** dunno, I don't think it's here today." you say with a small smile, your cheeks burning up.

" **W** ell shit, that's too fucking bad, isn't it, baby?" he plays along as he keeps on walking up to you, slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

" **T** ragic."

Negan chuckles at your wittiness and takes a final step towards you, officially closing the distance between your bodies, before leaning his forehead against yours just like he did yesterday, just like he always does when he's about to kiss the living hell out of you.

" **F** ucking hell, baby. I had to fucking lock myself up in my goddamn shower for a whole fucking hour because of you, I couldn't fucking get rid of the mean hard on you fuckin' gave me. I had to fucking jerk that shit off for a good thirty fucking minutes. And now you show up with my goddamn t-shirt on and, good fuckin' lord, love, are those piercings I saw through that damn shirt?"

You bit your lip, embarrassed at the fact that, in your blind panic, you completely forgot to put your bra on an he can actually see your breast through his shirt and that, as a bonus, you now have to find a way to tell him that you've had both of your nipples pieced when you were only fourteen.

" **D** on't bite your goddamn lip, doll. S'my fucking job." you hear him grunt, " **S** o, are you gonna tell me or do I have to check for myself, baby girl?" he asks with a cocky smirk.

" **I** uh- Y-yeah, I- I have-" you look up at him and you feel like crying under his stare, "ihavemynipplespierced." you quietly mumble, way too quickly for anyone to even understand that you're speaking English right now but he understands, loud and clear.

" **F** ucking shit, doll, you're fucking killing me."

You don't say anything you just give him what he asked for a few minutes ago, his morning kiss, and he gladly takes it. It starts off all sweet and chaste because you're the one who initiated the kiss but he's quick to turn it into something way less innocent and way more dirty and needy. He turns a simple kiss into another one of your heavy make-out sessions but you have to force yourself to push him away as you don't want the kiss to end up at the same place it went yesterday and, at this rate, you know damn well it will, quicker than you're comfortable with.

" **W** -we should go home." you whisper as you pull away from his kiss, letting grunt out his disapproval.

Though he highly disapproves of the kiss ending so soon, he can't help the big grin appearing on his lips when he hears you call the Sanctuary, the place **he** 's built, "home", " **W** here's home, [y/n]?" he asks with a smirk, wanting to see if he can get to get it out of you again.

_wherever you are you stupid idiot..._

" **D** on't push it." you softly say, making him chuckle against your kiss-swollen lips.

" **S** 'that a challenge, baby girl? Sure as shit sounds like one."

" **I** t's whatever you want it to be, Negan." you answer with your natural sass, slightly rolling your eyes before walking back into the bathroom, locking the door behind you to make sure he doesn't burst in on you putting your bra on, it's already embarrassing enough that he knows about your piercings now.

_yeah, that was really fucking awkward, let's never do that again._

 

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﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

**9:00** **AM** **//**

The ride home was actually pretty cool, Negan made you laugh and blush more times than you can count, it felt right to finally be able to have a proper conversation with him without it ending up with the two of you spitting venom at each other's face.

But, as he kills the engine of his truck, it feels like the mood suddenly changes in a matter of a second and you hate it.

" **D** oll, what I said yesterday?"

_he didn't mean it, of course he didn't fucking mean it, i told you you stupid bi-_

" **I** t might not be the kind of shit I usually say because I don't usually feel the way I fucking feel with you but-"he turns on his seat to look at your teary eyes, his eyebrows furrowing when he spots a tear rolling down your face, " **H** ey, fuckin' hell, doll, why're you crying?"

" **S** -sorry I just- I thought- I feel like shit 'cau-cause I thought that you-you were about to-to take it all b-back."

He lets out a small, humourless chuckle, " **W** ell, shit, I fucked up pretty bad with you, didn't I, angel face?" he gently grabs your face when he doesn't get an answer out of you, " **A** ll I want you to know is that, yeah, I feel real fucking awkward saying all that shit but it doesn't mean that I don't fucking mean it, baby girl. I would safe myself the fucking embarrassment if I didn't mean any of that shit, trust me."

" **O** -okay... Okay." you whisper, nodding your head as your mind tries to take in this new information, information which is, by the way, really fucking disturbing to take in because it comes from Negan.

" **N** ow, princess, daddy's gotta go on another supply run but I want you to stay here, get some rest or do whatever the fuck you want, really."

_he actually trusts you enough to let you wander around the place without having someone ordering you around? okay, that's fucking progress right there or i don't fucking know what is._

" **R** -really? I mean- You're sure?"

" **J** ust be good 'til I get back, I should be back before the end of the fucking day or in the night anyway so you just wait for daddy and behave in the meantime, you can do that, can't you baby doll?" you nod your head yes and bite down on your lip without even noticing, making Negan grunt again, " **D** oll, your lip."

" **S** orry it's- It's nervous."

He chuckles at your flustered expression before sending you a wink, " **C** 'mon out, sweetheart." and, at that, you both get out of his truck and before you can even close the door on your side, he's got you pinned against the warm metal of the vehicle, his lips are on yours in a second and his tongue is pushing past your lips, your hands flying to the back of his neck, " **Y** ou'll be good, baby girl?" he asks as he moves on to biting down on your throat, making you whimper and shake beneath him.

" **Y** -Yes, I'll be good." you whine out as he bites down on your pulse point and you both get taken by surprise when your knees completely give out under you, your body clearly enjoying the sensation it's just received and Negan can't help but grunt and smirk into your skin as he laps at the fresh teeth marks he's left on your sensitive skin.

There's something completely and utterly fucked up about you enjoying getting bit, you knows that though Negan doesn't seem to give a shit about the entire context, yet you can't help the way your body is reacting to it, no matter how wrong it is.

" **D** inner. Tonight." he says more as an order than an invitation or a question but you don't really care.

" **O** -okay, yeah."

He slowly gets away from you and you're about to walk inside the compound to go and check on Faith and Randall but you don't even take three steps away from the truck when he gets a hold of you again, " **O** h, and, baby?" he gets right behind you and whispers in your ear, " **I** f you feel like taking a nap, go ahead and go take it in my bed, s'all yours for today."

He quickly kisses the shell of your ear and gives your butt a slight smack before walking away, swinging Lucille on his shoulder, whistling with a cocky smirk on his lip and you thank the lord that no one is actually around right now because you would have died of embarrassment yet you somehow feel like it you might not have minded all that much.

What the hell is this man doing to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, babies, I have proofread but there is might be some mistakes in there -there most certainly are actually- but, heck, I tried. Little note on the side though, my eyes are seriously hurting my right now (it's a mean side effect of the treatment I have for my depression blahblahblah who the fuck cares.) so please forgive the small mistakes here and there but that's seriously the best I can do at the moment, I'll go back and check on it when my eyes will be up to it, promise.
> 
> Hey, wanna hear a really fucking hilarious story? No? Well too bad, boo, cos there it is!  
> So, since last week, since I uploaded the thirteenth chapter, three people un-bookmarked the story and guess what? I seriously felt like shit over three people?? I seriously did not see that one coming, not even from me like, seriously, I would have never thought that I could get anxious about such small details, it's freaking ridiculous. Jesus fuck, I'm the worst kind of person, seriously. I'm not talking about that to guilt trip you guys, not at all, fuck that actually. I'm only saying it because, guess what??? This whole thing made me so self-conscious, because, yes, my self-esteem is THAT freaking bad (depression doesn't help with that tbh, it actually feeds on negativity, well "negativity" 'cause, really, that bitch holds on into just about anything that potentially can make you feel bad about yourself or what you do/say) So, anyway, where was I? Yeah, I felt so bad that I couldn't freaking bring myself to write?? I'm the worst?? This is seriously stupid???
> 
> Anyways! I might be a big ol' mess but I truly hope that you guys are doing amazing, that you're safe, that you take your meals, that you take care of yourselves and that you're really freaking happy because you really deserve it and, for whatever it's worth, I'm super proud of you for still being here with us, I freaking love you and you're freaking beautiful *smooches all over your face*
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter, I kinda do, I think (?), I dunno. Don't ask me anything, I can't seem to be able to function properly atm ;3;
> 
> Also, not to be rude or anything but when tHE HELL WILL CAROL AND DARYL BE TOGETHER?? I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, THEY'RE BOTH HURTING SO BADLY, IT PHYSICALLY HURTS ME, STOP HURTING MY PARENTS, STAWP.  
> ALSO, HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS, PAPA RICK AND MAMA MICHONNE ARE RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL, I WANNA SQUISH THEIR FACE, THEY LOVE AND CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH IT'S DISGUSTING. I LOVE THEM SO FREAKING MUCH HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> OH ONE LAST THING; THERE'LL BE SOME SERIOUSLY SHAMELESS SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER SO, YEAH, THAT'S A THING THAT'S HAPPENING APPARENTLY, YEAH... HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING....


	15. Even if it hurts //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first things first; I apologize for the delay on this chapter, I was really nervous about uploading it and I also had some serious problems because of my ridiculously painful headaches, my eyes were killing me and I couldn't stand to write for more than five minutes -and lemme tell you, five minutes isn't a whole freaking lot, at all- ALSO I HAVE PROOFREAD THIS -BUT- MY EYES ARE STILL KILLING ME AND I KNOW THERE'S SOME HORRIBLE TYPOS, THIS IS PROBABLY REALLY CRINGY BUT THAT'S THE BEST I CAN AT THE MOMENT, I WILL GO BACK AND CHECK AGAIN -and again and again and again- WHEN MY EYES WILL FEEL BETTER BUT FOR NOW, THIS IS AS GOOD AS IT GETS, I'M TRULY SORRY AND I HOPE THAT YOU GUYS ARE NOT TOO MAD AT ME, OKAY, BYE, I LOVE YOU.
> 
> but, yeah, anyway. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for being so patient, you're all precious lil angels and I don't deserve this.
> 
> I love you all super very much, stay safe cupcakes!
> 
> ps; there's smut in there but, like, they don't do the do... y'know? I wanna keep that for later because it's important to me to build things up a little more before that happens... the do... yeah, I'm grown. shut up, i love you, okay?

**P R E V I O U S L Y  / /**

**9:00 AM //**

[...]

" **D** inner. Tonight." _he says more as an order than an invitation or a question but you don't really care._

" **O** -okay, yeah."

 _He slowly gets away from you and you're about to walk inside the compound to go and check on Faith and Randall but you don't even take three steps away from the truck when he gets a hold of you again, "_ **O** h, and, baby? _" he gets right behind you and whispers in your ear_ , " **I** f you feel like taking a nap, go ahead and go take it in my bed, s'all yours for today."

_He quickly kisses the shell of your ear and gives your butt a slight smack before walking away, swinging Lucille on his shoulder, whistling with a cocky smirk on his lip and you thank the lord that no one is actually around right now because you would have died of embarrassment yet you somehow feel like it you might not have minded all that much._

_What the hell is this man doing to you?_

 

**N   O   W   / /**

 

 

 **9:45** **A** **M** **//**

 

" **W** hat you had out there wasn't a fucking life, [y/n]!" Randall snaps once again, his voice rougher than it usually is.

You're starting to pull your hair out, you have no idea how the hell you ended up in such a heated argument with Randall yet, here you are. 

" **I** t was to me, Randall!"

A simple "hello" and a small smile from you turned into a messy and completely unjustified fight with the ex-tattoo artist. A simple goddamn word turned into a huge freaking monster and you have absolutely no other choice but to deal with the venom he's spitting at your face, you know he needs to vent, you know he probably will apologize later on and you know that he most certainly has no fucking idea who the hell he's talking to right now so you let it happen. You let him be angry, let him scream and give him room to wiggling his arms all over the place as he goes on and on.

After what happened to Connor, you feel bad for running off without even speaking to him or, at the very least, try and make sure that he was alright. You now realize that you didn't even take the time to **make** time for him, him being one of, if not **the** , most important person in your life.

" **W** hy are you fighting it, I don't fucking get you sometimes." he spits out, forcing your attention back to him.

" **F** ighting what, Randall? What exactly am I fighting?" you ask with a sigh, rubbing your temple as you try real hard to stay as calm and collected as possible but you can feel your jaw starting to clench and your head starting to throb. If there's one thing you despite it's being pushed around and yelled at when it's not justified for you to be.

" **T** his!" he says, his hands moving all over the place, " **T** he life we're trying to give you, [y/n]. Why would you fight safety, food and water, please, explain this shit to me 'cause I don't fucking understand it."

You look around the small "garden" you're both having an argument in the complete middle of and you don't seem to be able to find anything... Good? About this place. This garden is mostly concrete, the only reason why things are actually able to grown is because they have small cases filled with dirt and whatever else you need to harvest whatever they're growing in this place.

_why wouldn't i be surprised if they were actually trying to grow guns and bullets..._

" **O** f course you don't." you say, bringing your attention back to him again, your eyes narrowed at him, your blood boiling, " **Y** ou all have everything you want and need right here at your fingertips but at what cost, uh? You're nothing but someone's toys, Randall, that's all those people in there are" you say, pointing at the compound with an accusatory finger, "toys. I'm not like you, I'm not like them and I'm not like **him**. I'll never be like him."

" **Y** ou should." he says with a tone you've never heard from him before, " **W** e're all Negan around here and it's exactly how shit is supposed to be, [y/n]."

_is it anatomically possible for a jaw to do a flip and fall on the ground or....?_

" **Y** ou didn't just say that, I didn't hear that right, did I?" you say, feeling a knot forming in your stomach, " **Y** ou're not Negan, Randall, what the **fuck**! You're talking like the other brain washed idiots in this place, what's gotten into you?" you ask, your eyes getting watery but you keep it to yourself. It feels like Randall just turned into a ball of anger and bitterness right in front of you and you hate it, absolutely hate it, because you know that he's probably drowning in it and he needs help to get his head back above the water and you'd be damned if you're gonna let him drown without putting up a fight, doesn't matter if you end up falling in the water with him.

" **Y** eah, right." he scoffs and looks straight into your eyes, " **I** t's easy for you! You don't know what it's like to have him behind your back every goddamn second of the day, waiting for you to fuck up somehow, it's fucking easy for you! You don't have to worry about getting on his bad side since you're one of his whores now-" his little speech is finally interrupted by your hand harshly slapping his face.

" **D** on't you fucking dare, Randall!"

You feel like puking, you feel sick and you're torn between just walking away or ripping his head off. Worst is, if you're being completely honest, he's not completely wrong now, is he? You and Negan do have something, you don't know what the fuck that something is but it exists much to your dismay right now.

With his words only, Randall made you realize just how far things keep on going with this man that you're supposed to hate with every fiber of your being. After all he's done to you, all he's forced you to do... You feel guilty as all hell for feeling the way you do about him, you don't know what that feeling is but you know damn well that it's not supposed to be here, at least not for a man like Negan.

But, then again, Randall's words are not justified, you're not giving yourself to this man and you probably never will, you don't plan to, at least not with him living the way he does that's for damn sure.

" **Y** ou wanna know a lil' something? My life is fucking hell because of him and you wanna know why the fuck that is? Because I'm not dropping on my knees for him, Randall, that's why! How could you say something like that? I'm so sick of your shit, you really think- You actually believe that- That I would- I can't believe you." you finish, disappointed and hurt by someone you never really thought could behave like that with you.

You turn around, leaving him to himself as he officially gave you murderous thoughts with his awful attitude and you don't want to say or do something you know you'll regret, like slapping him, you already regret that, you regretted it the second your skin made contact with his if you're being honest.

" **H** e's gone- He- He's gone and it fucking hurts, [y/n]." you hear Randall breath ou barely above a whisper but you can clearly detect sorrow and sadness in his voice.

_is he crying? god, no, please don't cry._

Your anger quickly fades and is replaced by sheer sadness, your eyes slowly but surely filling with tears again and you turn back around to look back at him only to find that he's looking straight back at you, tears rolling down his face, his eyes shinning because of the salty tears drowning them and his face only shows pure exhaustion and sorrow.

_well, shit, i one hundred percent fucking hate to see him cry... glad we had that conversation... let's never do that again._

" **R** andall, I- I'm so sorry, I know you miss him, hell, I miss this goof too." you softly coo, still unsure if you should be speaking to him again after the outburst he just had but you can't stand to see him like this and if it means coming back while the plate is still burning hot then so be it, wouldn't be the first time you get burn anyway.

" **I** t's just- Fuck, it's just that I really thought that this kind of shit wouldn't happen to me anymore, y'know? I thought that I wouldn't lose anyone like this anymore." he looks around the place again, he looks completely lost, as if he's not supposed to be here, " **B** eing behind these walls for so long you just- You forget what it's like to lose someone you love because that shit doesn't really happen when you have a safe place to stay, y'know?"

" **Y** eah- Yeah, I guess I do." you get closer to him until you're standing right in front of him and your hands gently come down on his face to frame it, his eyes closing and a sigh leaving his mouth as he leans into your touch, making your heart purr and your mind forget about your angry exchange.

You're not sure if you actually truly know what he's feeling right now because, no matter what, you've always been one to keep to yourself and to be prepared for the worst to happen to the people you care about, no matter how many walls there is around you, "protecting" you and the people you potentially could grow attached to.

" **O** f course you fucking do, sweet pea... Fuck, I was being such a fucking dick. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of what I said, it's just that- I dunno- shit." he gives up and let his forehead fall against yours, his breath hitting your lips and you shut your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

" **I** t's okay, you don't have to apologize, really. I'm sorry for slapping you, I shouldn't have."

_even though he kinda deserved it 'cause he went way too fucking far._

" **N** o, no, I deserved it, it's just- Damn, you were here and- and I guess I needed to let some steam out and I- I took it all out on you for no goddamn reason, fucking hell, I'm such a-"

" **I** t's cool, we're cool, just don't pull that crap again, Chicago boy." you cut off his rambling with a small smile and you feel such a relief when he looks up at you with a genuine smile plastered on his face.

" **A** dmit it, you were two minutes away from stabbing me in the face, weren't you?"

" **S** uch violence, why must- Yeah, I definitely was."

You both let out a small laugh and you feel lighter even though your mind is still racing after what he said to you. Anger or not, he hit a really freaking sensitive spot when he mentioned Negan and now you feel completely lost and seriously guilty for the things you feel for this man.

This is seriously so disorienting to you, it just plain sucks. You didn't need this crap, you already have a bunch of shit going through your mind and now you have another one to add to the family and, oh boy, is it an heavy and unwelcome one.

You already knew that what you feel for Negan is wrong, you're not stupid, of course you know but now it just feels... Sickening. After the moment you two shared yesterday and this very morning-

_oh my fucking god, aren't we supposed to have dinner with him tonight?? oh, fucking hell..._

"[ **Y** /n]? Hey, sweet pea, you there?" Randall's voice brings you back to the present and you snap out of your thoughts, now completely freaked out as you remember Negan clearly telling you to come and have dinner with him tonight.

" **U** h?"

" **H** ey, you're alright?" he asks, clearly worried, seriously wondering if he's not to blame for the state you seem to be in right now.

" **Y** -yeah, yeah, I'm alright, I just- I need to get some rest."

You don't let him answer, you just kiss his cheek and walk away, pushing the door leading back into the compound open just to be greeted with people running all over the place and loud noises which only cause an enormous headache to visit you.

You make your way through the crowd, people are shoving you all over the freaking place and all you can do is keep your arms tightly wrapped around your shaking frame and push through the thick crowd until you finally get to the long corridor leading to your room.

" **M** orning, pumpkin, how we doin' today?" Simon's voice booms right behind you, making you jump, a gasp leaving your mouth and a chuckle leaving his.

" **G** osh! Don't- Don't do that, you scared the crap outta me."

" **S** orry 'bout that, pumpkin, c'mon now, let's go have a lil' chat, shall we?"

_no. no, thank you._

" **W** h-"

He ignores your potential protest and drags you along with him to the kitchen.

_wait, what? is he gonna cook me something? damn... i'm starving, dude._

Your stomach lets out a little growl at the though of food and, of course, you can count on Simon to hear that and grin like a douche, " **Y** a hungry, pumpkin?"

" **Y** -yeah, so-sorry."

He points one of the stools surrounding the island sitting in the middle of the big kitchen and you sit on it with a little difficulty, this thing isf ridiculously high for you to just sit down on.

" **T** here it is." you hear Simon say as he looks through the kitchen's supply room and you see him come out of there with a chocolate bar, a whole freaking chocolate bar.

He sits in front of you at the opposite side of the island, puts the candy right in front of him and gently pushes it towards you on the counter. You hesitantly take the chocolate and look up at him, kind of confused, " **N** egan saw a jar of Nutella in your room and I guess he assumed you loved chocolate so he brought back some for you, pumpkin."

_okay, that's sweet and all but, what the fuck was Negan doing in our room? creepy? yes, creepy._

" **W** e inspect the rooms from time to time, make sure everything's in order." he justifies as he spots confusion on your face.

_he seriously needs to stop doing this, how does he know what's going through your freaking brain? can he actually hear us? this is scary... what if you're actually talking out loud and not in your head... not cool, dude._

" **O** h- Okay, t-thank you."

" **Y** ou're welcome, pumpkin, but I'm sure Negan'd be more than happy to get a thank you. But I appreciate it though."

_yeah, of course he would. that man loves when people pet his giant ego._

There's a small silence in the room but you can hear people working in the compound still and it's kind of reassuring that it's not completely silent, it'll be awkward otherwise.

" **S** o, I assume you know Negan went on another little trip outside for the day, yeah?"

" **Y** -yes, he told me, yeah." you answer, slightly pulling on your fingers.

" **G** ood, good. So, he left me in charge since he took Dwight with him and he left me a little something for the two of us to talk about, you're okay with that?"

" **W** -well, y-yeah, I- I guess."

_please, don't tell me he's about to give us a class on sexual intercourse, please, god, no._

" **A** lright, then!" he straightens up and grins at you, " **S** o, lil' lady, you have completely free access to Negan's quarters today-"

_yeah, okay, cool, but no thank you._

A deep chuckle makes you snap out of your thoughts and you look up at Simon, blushing as you feel like this man can read your freaking mind.

_he's doing it again! what the hell._

" _ **A** nd_, they're completely empty, they're all yours, no one else is in there, pumpkin." he finishes his sentence with a slight smirk as if he knew that you were silently going to interrupt him and you hate how easily he seems to be able to read you.

_what? do they, like, have a storage room for these women or...???_

" **W** hat- what about- y'know..."

" **D** wight dropped them all off into the several communities working with us for today, Negan said he wanted to try some shit out."

_did randall break my brain and now i'm hearing things or did simon seriously just said that? help, i'm lost and potentially about to blow up._

" **B** ut-"

" **D** on't ask, I don't know what the whole plan is, I know just a little about it and I'm not allowed to tell so, yeah."

" **W** hat if I give you- Wait, no, okay. What if I share my chocolate bar with you, uh? Would you tell me then?" you ask a little too hopeful that your childish plan might actually do the trick which seems to amuse Simon.

" **E** veryone has a price, pumpkin." he starts, standing up from his stool, " **A** nd mine's a lil' higher than that I'm afraid." he finishes with a laugh and a small smile appears on your lips, happy to see that, even though you failed to make him spill out whatever information he has, he still played along and got a laugh out of it.

He leans against a counter top next to you and takes a long look at you, making you shift uncomfortably on the stool you're sitting down on.

" **Y** ou can do whatever you want today, pumpkin, just don't do anything you know you're ain't supposed to 'cause I would hate to have to tell Negan about it. You never know what kind of mood he'll be in whenever he comes back from his lil' trip out in the real world, believe me, you don't want to misbehave today, pumpkin."

He pushes himself off of the counter and starts walking out of the kitchen but you quickly jump off your stool and run up to him, " **W** ait- I-" you look at him, unsure of what to say now that he's looking at you again, " **I** uh- Is there anything I can do around the compound to help?"

" **N** o matter how much I fucking appreciate someone as hardworking as you, pumpkin, Negan made it clear that he wants you to get some rest today so, no, there's nothing around here for you do to."

" **B** ut- I w-won't tell, please, just give me s-something to do, pretty please?" you ask still nervously pulling on your fingers, looking down at the ground.

" **L** isten, pumpkin, I can't be running the place looking after you, not today-"

" **B** -but you won't have to! I promise, I- I don't need to be l-looked after, Simon."

" **L** ook, [y/n], I can't risk you getting a single scratch, alright? Negan made it pretty damn clear that he'll chop my balls off if he finds even the slightest of scratches on you when he'll get back, so, I'm sorry but it's still no."

_uuuuuuuuuuugh...._

" **Y** ou might want to stop rolling your eyes so much before they get stuck in the back of your head, missy." Simon remarks with a chuckle, making you roll your eyes in annoyance again.

" **S** ure." you mumble, clearly a little upset and frustrated.

" **A** lright, " he starts with a long sigh, "you really want something to do, pumpkin?"

" **Y** es!" you quickly answer, blushing slightly when your sudden outburst of enthusiasm makes Simon laugh.

" **O** kay then, how 'bout that; it's currently," he pauses to look at his watch, "a quarter past ten so, let's say you get some rest 'til noon, you eat a lil something and then I'll give you some shit do to if you're still feeling up to it, deal?"

" **C** an't I just start now, Simon?"

" **N** o, it's either what I just proposed to you or nothing, pumpkin. I shouldn't even be discussing this with you right now since Negan made that shit pretty damn clear before he left. So? Deal or no deal?"

" **D** -deal. Okay."

He extends his hand out to you and you shyly grab it for him to give a firm shake, almost crushing your much smaller hand in the process.

" **N** ow, you wanna go get some rest in your room or in Negan's quarters?"

" **W** -what's the difference?"

" **I** t's way more comfortable and calm in his quarters, and, hell, the place is empty and he even gave you access to his bedroom so you should make the most of it, pumpkin."

" **A** -alright, c-can you- Can you walk me there, please?"

" **F** 'course, pumpkin but let's move it 'cause I got shit to do."

 

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Simon just closed the door of Negan's office, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, after he gave you a tour of the entire place; it's mostly bedrooms, Negan's "living area" and a seriously overdone common room, the same common room you were shameless making out in with Negan just two nights ago and, of course, you couldn't help but to replay the scene over and over again as Simon was showing you around the place.

You're glad to finally be in Negan's apartment because it has to be the only damn part in his quarters that doesn't smell of fucking nail polish and awful perfume. Though, the place definitely smells of him; leather, gun power, whiskey and spices, something that's all Negan and a dead give away that the man spends most of his time in here.

You clumsily take your combat boots off and carefully shimmy out of your jeans, letting them pool at your ankles before stepping out of them. You feel comfortable here, almost like you belong here.

You take your time and look around the apartment room, wandering off to his bedroom since the last time you were in it, you didn't really have time to look around the place because, not only were you pissed about being in here but also, and mostly, because Negan had other plans for you and they clearly did not include a grand tour.

You blush as your eyes drop on the queen sized bed sitting in the middle of the room, recalling what happened the last time, the first time, you were in this very bed and how shitty you felt the next morning. You still can't believe he asked Simon to bring you back into your bedroom that night...

" **W** hatever, it's done." you whisper to yourself as you walk towards a huge shelf filled with books, you grab a complete random one and crawl underneath the silk sheets of the bed, almost purring in comfort as you settle on the mattress and open the book.

You barely open the thick book when something falls out of it, making you jump in surprise and, with one look at the book, you realize that it's not even a real freaking book, it's a box.

_of fucking course you had to pick the only damn book that isn't even a fucking book... of course._

You put the box next to you on the bed and look down between your thighs where two shiny rings fell out of the "book".

_fucking hell, please don't be what I think you are, for the love of fucking god, don't do this to me..._

You take both the rings in your shaking hand and closely look at them, guilt washing over you. These are alliances, Negan's and Lucille's.

_oh fucking shit, fuck me with a candy cane..._

You automatically whisper a "sorry" before putting the two rings back into the book shaped box and quickly get out of the bed to put it back with the other books.

You decide to go back to bed, not feeling like reading anymore. Your thoughts are heavy, you're not sure what's going on with you right now but you don't like it, it feels... too complicated, you hate it.

You hate the way you feel, you hate the way **he** makes you feel. You don't understand it and you don't much care for things that you don't understand when it comes to your mind.

You just feel so goddamn empty whenever Negan isn't around and you hate it, you wouldn't mind feeling hollow before but then he came into your life and he changed everything. You somehow got attached to him and now you can't stand what he does to you. He completely fills you up when he's around you but whenever he goes away, it's like he takes it all back from you, like he won't allow you to stay warm if it doesn't come from him and you love it just as much, if not more, as you hate it.

You let out an heavy sigh before closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off to sleep, hoping that your mind will be more calm and rested after a quick power nap.

" **I** miss you, Connor." you quietly whisper to no one in particular before falling deeply asleep wrapped in Negan's silky sheets.

 

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**5:20** **PM** **//**

You've done everything Simon gave you to do. In all honestly, he only gave you really simple and safe tasks and it kind of pisses you off but at least you weren't doing nothing all day long. You checked the armory, loaded the guns that needed to be loaded, cleaned most of them, made the inventory of the kitchen pantry and now you've decided to do something that's been bugging you for a while now; you've decided to fix one of the trucks you didn't have time to repair before.

You've already fixed one up on your first day at the Sanctuary but didn't get the time, nor did you have the energy, to tend to the other and it's been bugging you ever since. It just felt like you'd started a job and left it unfinished and God knows how insane that can drive you. So, here you are, underneath the giant truck that's been hunting your dreams and nagging you for leaving it untouched in the corner the immense garage of the compound, covered head to toe in sweat and grease; you feel pretty damn good.

You're actually done with the repairs now and you've moved on to cleaning some parts that need cleaning here and there- Well, at least you were until Simon's voice boomed into the room, making you jump underneath the damn truck and hitting your freaking head it the process.

" **O** w! What the-"

" **G** et the hell out from under there." he orders, panicked like he's just caught playing with a ticking bomb or something.

You sigh and slide out from underneath the vehicle, holding your head and frowning when you feel something running down the palm of your hand and between your fingers. You're bleeding.

_oh, cool, that's cool, you had one fucking job and it was not to get hurt and, well, you fucking failed so, yeah, there's that..._

" **F** uckin' hell, [y/n]! I said not a fucking scratch and I find you underneath a fucking truck and now you're hurt, what the hell's gotten into you!" Simon freaks out as he runs up to you and helps you back up.

" **D** on't yell at me, okay!" you snap, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans with a huff, " **You** scared me and I bumped my freaking head, that's all, I'll clean it up, good God." you sigh, frustrated with his attitude and angrily clean your hands with an old bandanna before throwing it on the floor and walking out of the garage, " **O** h, and, by the way," you start, stopping right behind Simon, not turning around, "I fixed the damn thing, t'was just a leak."

" **T** hank you b-"

" **Y** ou're welcome." you don't let him finish because you know he's going to try and give you a lecture and you're not in the fucking mood for that right now so you walk away, the sun outside fully hitting your eyes, making you wince.

You slowly drag your feet on the concrete ground as you walk back to the compound to get back to your room but you stop dead in your tracks when you spot Randall, Faith, Arat and some other people that you don't know shit about -and you don't really want to get to know if you're being honest- all sitting down a wooden table in the yard, laughing and chatting.

Randall spots you pretty damn quickly but, just as he's about to stand up from his sit, you shake your head no and walk away from the small group. You don't feel like interacting with anyone today, aside from Negan and the little episode you've had with Randall earlier this morning, you didn't talk to anyone at all today besides Simon and it's only because you had to. Something just doesn't feel right ever since you've step a foot back in this place, it feels like you're realizing just how much you actually hate it, what it represents and what it stands for.

Maybe you were better off out there, maybe you shouldn't have let Negan sweet talk you into coming back, **again**. You're exhausted, your head hurts and the hit it's just received isn't helping at all.

You finally step in the communal shower room and look in one of a big mirrors on the wall above the sinks. You have a small yet really deep looking cut right above your right eyebrow, you wince when you touch it with shaky finger tips.

" **D** arn it." you sigh, tired and eager for this damn day to end already.

You feel like crying every damn time you recall having a dinner planned with Negan tonight, you're not sure if you want to go but he held out his part of the bargain so that's the least you can do, you know that but it doesn't sooth your worries, at all.

" **W** ell, don't you look mighty fine, kitten."

Your heart almost jumps up of your chest when you hear Negan's voice echoing in the quiet room, " **J** esus! What's with people and scaring the crap outta me today, you all need to stop, okay? This is such an horrible trend, I do not support it."

_well shit, did you just make a full sentence without stuttering? you just spoke normally to negan, girl. that's progress._

" **I** 'm the only one allowed to creep up on you." he teases with a chuckle, " **W** ho the hell scared ya, sugar?"

" **D** -doesn't matter, just- don't do that, p-please." you quietly answer, afraid that you might get people hurt if you give him names no matter how unimportant this is, your head dropping down.

_well, never mind..._

" **H** ey now, look at me, baby doll." when you don't immediately look up at him, he grabs your face with a gloved hand and forces you to. You can see his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing as he examines your face, you can feel your blood running down the right side of it, " **D** oll-"

" **I** \- I know, it-it's my fault though. **I** \- I bumped my head while I was fi-fixing a truck and- I know that I wasn't supposed t-to do that b-but I- I needed to do something pro-productive, I'm-I'm sorry." you quickly say, a tear rolling down your face, making your head ache even more, afraid that he might get angry at you or at Simon and you don't want someone else to take the blow for you, it wouldn't be fair.

To your surprise, he doesn't snap, his expression even softens and he eventually lets out a small chuckle before kissing your forehead in his very own gentle way, " **C** 'mon, baby girl, let's go get you all cleaned up." he says right against your skin.

" **W** -well I was about to take a shower so-"

" **N** ah," he cuts you off, stepping back from you just enough so that he can look into your eyes, "you're comin' with me so I can get you cleaned up properly. We need to take care of that wound, lil' one."

He doesn't let you answer, knowing that you'll probably only deny him again, and hooks his left harm underneath your bum, steadying you with his right arm splayed out in the middle of your back before lifting you up and pushing you against his chest, keeping you tightly against him as your legs snake around his waist all on their own accord like they always do.

He carries you like that through the place for everyone to see and you can feel your cheeks burning up just because you're in his arms, completely out in the open for anyone to see and judge. Your face is hidden away in the crook of his neck but you can hear people getting quiet around you as Negan walks the two of you around the place, hell, you can even hear them kneeling in front of him as he walks by, paying no mind to them, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid that someone might steal you from him.

You feel him going up a set of stairs, your body rocked by the movements, and your face only comes out of when Negan whispers that it's okay against your temple. You look around and realize that you're in his apartment, his office more specifically, the light in the room slightly blinding you at first but you slowly adjust as he sits you down on his desk, your eyes widening when you spot Lucille leaned against his dresser. The bat is covered in blood and pieces of flesh, walkers' hopefully.

_we both know the odds of that are pretty damn slim, [y/n]._

You're not sure what he's doing, he kinda just sat you down on the top of his desk and walked off. You saw him going in his bedroom and, eventually, your curiosity gets the best of you yet again and you decide to jump off the desk and quietly walk to his bedroom but, when you get, you spot the open bathroom door, light coming out of it, but don't see nor hear him anywhere.

_did the ground swallow him or something?_

" **D** oll, c'mere." you hear his voice echoing in his bathroom.

" **U** h, o-okay."

You hesitantly walk to the open door leading to the bathroom and spot Negan leaning against the fancy counter top where a seriously pretty faucet sits in and a giant mirror sits right above said counters, showing Negan's reflection. You examine him for a quick second, he's taken his leather jacket and his glove off. You've always wondered why he only covers one of his hands and not both.

" **T** ell me if it's warm enough for ya, sweetheart." he says, nodding towards the big bathtub that's now filled to the brim with water and bubbles.

You shyly go and dip a finger in it, blushing when a freaking meow escapes your lips at the warmness of the water. It's been a decade since you've last taken a bath and this is torture for you, " **I** -it's perfect, th-thank you." you quietly say, gasping when you feel his hands snaking around your waist, your back hitting his chest and his breath hitting the back of your right ear.

" **Y** ou're welcome, [y/n]." he kisses the skin right behind your ear, making a bunch of goosebumps come out to cover the skin of your neck, " **I** 'm gonna let you get undressed while I clean Lucille up, call me when you're in the bath, okay, baby girl?"

" **O** -okay."

He lets out a small, deep chuckle and slowly, almost hesitantly, lets go of you before walking out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him and, for some reason, you don't really mind. You're just happy that he knows better than to make you strip in front of him.

You take your clothes off, your body aching with exhaustion making you whine in discomfort as you do. You watch as your panties pool around your ankles, kick them to the side and clumsily get in the warm water, trying to be quick, afraid that Negan might come back sooner than expected... Kind of like he did today. 

Actually, you're pretty sure he'd told you he'll be back by the end of the day if he could and his early return only freaked you out because his timing didn't give you the time you needed to clean up and make your fresh wound disappear but, hey, you don't really care about that right now, all you can focus on is the warm water hugging your body.

You hide your breast with foam when Negan steps inside the room with a grin on his face, making you blush madly when he crouches right next to you, leaning over you to get the damp glove at the other side of the tub.

 **"H** ere, pretty girl." he quietly says as he grabs your hair and twists then into a messy bun on top of your head before wrapping a scrunchy around it, giving him access to your neck and face, " **Y** ou cleaned my room, baby girl." he states matter-of-factly rather than ask.

" **Y** -yeah, so-sorry, I just- There was some dust so- I thought- Sorry." you sigh, pulling on your fingers underneath the water and foam as you nervously worry at your bottom lip.

" **I** 'm not mad, doll, relax." he reassures you and flashes you a wink when you ever so slightly look up at him through a few stranded strands of hair floating around your face, " **I** really appreciate it, that's all."

You let out a small " _oh_ ", your face dropping down with a blush to look at the bubbles and white foam covering most of your body and you can't help but think about the fact that he might actually be able to see your butt right now.

Without another word, he starts washing your face with the glove, his movements way more gentle and careful then what you're used to as he washes the grease, sweat and blood off before letting your hair fall back down to wash them and you swear you feel yourself purring when he starts massaging your scalp.

You're not used to this, you're not used to people caring for you and taking care of you like that and you usually don't like being pampered but when it comes from him, it's just different, you love it. You don't know if it's because you don't get to see this side of him often and there it is, all out for you and only you to see, or if it's because you just like the man in his entirety and sharing this kind of moment with him means so much to you, it bordering on unhealthy, no matter how much you hate to admit it. Probably both.

" **W** hat're you thinking about, princess?" he asks with a smirk as he finishes to rinse your hair off.

" **I** uh- I got into an argument with Randall today, i-it's still bothering me, that's a-all. Nothing i-important." you answer with a small shrug.

_what? it's not a lie, okay? we're genuinely still bothered about what happened. no, we didn't mention what was going through your mind at this very moment but, let's be honest here, it doesn't really matter, my friend._

" **Y** eah..."he sighs, " **I** 'm gonna have to take the kid for a walk tomorrow. He's being real fucking stupid at the moment and I can't fucking have that." he says more to himself than to you and the idea of him taking Randall for "a walk" makes you extremely uncomfortable.

" **H** e- He just lost someone, his behavior isn't anything to be worried about it, it's a-actually pretty normal an-and healthy, Negan."

" **Y** a think?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested in your input.

" **Y** -yeah, give him a few days, y-you'll see. He'll get better. He just- He just needs good company and a little patience, he-he'll get through it." you state, worry clearly showing in your voice. It hurts to see your friend hurting like he is but you know that it's normal for him to be and that you have absolutely no right to keep him from feeling whatever he has to feel, no one has the right to do that, it'll just be cruel.

Negan's left hand ends up on you right cheek, making you turn your head to look at him and his lips immediately crash down on yours in an eager yet somewhat gentle kiss. On their own accord, your hands find their way to his face, his beard tickling your fingers but you can tell that he's trimmed it a bit.

You're the first to pull away much to his dismay and yours but you need to get out of this bath, " **C** -can I- Can I get out now?"

" **T** he water's cold, baby?" he asks, dipping his fingers in the now lurk-warm water, making you blush furiously when his fingertips touch the skin of your thigh.

" **N** -no it's just that- Well, I- I didn't take a shower before getting in a-and - well, now I'm kind of bathing in my own filth a-and it's yucky."

" **Y** eah, you're right. S'fucking gross, baby doll." he says with a chuckle, making you pout and you end up splashing water on him.

" **Y** ou're freaking gross." you say with a small giggle as he laughs along but you can see that his eyes darkened as he leans towards you to crash his lips into yours again.

" **W** e're both fucking gross, princess."

You gasp and let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal when both of his hands sneak under the water to harshly grab two handfuls of your butt cheeks before lifting you up, goosebumps covering your skin as the cold of the room seems to upset your now warmed up body.

You blush a deep crimson red as the realization that you're fully naked against Negan's body right now and his hands are harshly gripped on your butt cheeks, hits you like a bus. His grip on your wet skin is so tight that it kind of hurts but also you find some sort of odd comfort in it.

You whimper against his lips as he walks the two of you out of the bathroom, completely discarding the face that you're literally soaked right now, before heading straight for his bed and gently laying you down on the mattress, his lips never leaving yours, his fully clothed body covering your completely naked one.

" **Y'** mind if I take a look at ya, baby doll?" he asks clearly not wanting not take things where you don't want them to go as he starts nibbling at the crook of your neck, his face never looking down as he waits for your permission to do so.

" **N** -no, it-it's okay... I think."

" **Y** 'think? Nuh-huh, [y/n], I need a clear yes or a clear no, ain't shit happening until then." he gently yet firmly explains as he brings his head back up to yours, resting his forehead on yours.

" **I** \- It's just that-" you let a small, sad sigh as your eyes are getting teary and you get frustrated as you feel a single tear rolling down your cheek, you don't want to cry, not right now, " **Y** -you're gonna make fun of me."

" **W** hy in the holy fuck would I do that, baby? Who the fuck made fun of you? C'mon doll, tell daddy who's ass he needs to beat."

" **I** \- I just- I dunno."

" **Y** es, baby, you do." he insists with a frown, trying to push you to finally take that step, let go and give him a name.

" **I** don't want to talk a-about it- Please?"

" **A** lright, doll." he breaks with a sigh, bringing one of his hand up to your cheek to wipe a tear away as he used the other to hold his body up above you, " **W** e won't talk about that shit, for now."

" **W** hat d'you mean for now?" you let out a small giggle, " **Y** ou want me to talk to you about my issues? You better be immortal or some crap then 'cause the list is pretty darn long."

" **Y** eah?" he teasingly asks with a smirk.

" **Y** up."

" **W** ell," he lowers his face until his lips find the bottom jaw on the left side of your face, "guess it's a good thing I ain't planning on goin' anywhere any time soon, baby girl."

You're about to give him one of your witty comebacks put you're cut short when he starts sucking on that torturous spot below your jaw, making you mewl and shift underneath him, his hands finding your bare waist to keep you still as he works on leaving a dark love bite on your skin.

" **N** egan, please!"

You're not sure what you're pleading for right now but it seems to satisfy him a whole lot, you can feel a smirk on his lips against your skin, " **P** lease what, pretty girll? What do you want?" he asks, his voice way scruffier than it usually is, as he keeps on biting on the skin of your throat, leaving dark marks all over your delicate skin, marking you as his.

" **P** lease touch me, daddy!" you sound so desperate, your voice is already wrecked and you know that you should be embarrassed right now but you can't seem to bring yourself to give a damn about how stupidly needy you sound. Plus, Negan seems to be enjoying it quite a lot.

" **S** o, you're okay with me looking at you, princess?" he asks again, his mouth right next to yours as he speaks those words, wanting your consent before crossing that line. And, even though your eyes are screwed shut, you can hear the cocky smirk he's wearing in his voice and it makes you want to cry out in frustration.

" **Y** es! P-Please, just- Just do something."

After you've given him permission to look down at your bare body, you feel his body warmth leave you as you presume that he stood up and you take a short, shaky breath in to try and calm your nerves a little.

A moment passes and you don't hear nor even feel anything so you open your eyes, tears already filling them as your mind keeps bashing you with awful words but they quickly fade away when you see Negan standing in front of the bed, knees digging in the mattress as he looks down at your completely bare body, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes darker than you ever saw them.

The way he looks at you kind of scares you a small bit, he looks like he's stalking a prey and you're not sure how you're supposed to feel about it, " **F** ucking hell, baby." he growls, the tone of his voice surprising you, as it dropped lower than it you've ever heard it drop, and the intensity of both his stare and voice makes you squirm on the mattress.

" **I** -" you immediately close your mouth when he comes back down over you on the mattress, his eyes on yours and you whimper when you feel his hands running up from your waist to land right beneath your breasts and pushing them together, making you squirm beneath him at the foreign gesture.

You spot an all too familiar smirk on his lips and his eyes keep looking down at your face, scanning it entirely. His eyes stop at the fresh cut above your right eyebrow, your lips and then lower down to your throat that is practically covered in bite marks and deep, darkly colored hickeys, making a proud grin stretch across his lips.

After a little while, he completely pushes his upper body up, now straddling you, straightening his knees a little so that he's not actually putting any of his weight on you, and he lets his eyes wander further down until his stare lands straight on chest, eyeing the barbells pierced through each of your nipples. 

You're about to tell him to stop staring but only a needy noise comes out of your mouth as both of his thumbs start to draw circles on both of your hypersensitive nipples, the whimpers and mewls he's getting out of you only encouraging him to keep going so he starts to roll them between his thumb and forefinger and he groans when your back completely arches off the mattress, pushing your breast further into his hands, your hands clinging and tugging at the satin sheets beneath you.

" **G** ood fucking God, baby girl. Look at you, you're a fuckin' mess and I've barely touched you." he grunts out, his voice rough and even deeper than usual.

" **I** 'm sorry." you say, your voice higher than you've ever heard it being.

" **A** re you?" he teasingly asks with that awful smirk of his still plastered on his lips.

" **W** -" you're about to ask him what he means but you're, once again, cut off as he takes your right nipple into your mouth, the tip of his tongue running all over it and his teeth pulling on the barbell, making you cry out, your hand itching to pull on his hair but you restraint yourself, not knowing why you're having psychotic impulses of all the sudden, " **D** -daddy, can I p-please put m-my hand in your hair?" you ask, panting and confused as to why you even felt the need to ask for his permission, it just didn't feel right to do it any other way and it seems to be more than pleasing to him because he literally groans against your sensitive skin, making your nipple harden some more and your back arches even further to push you more firmly to him.

" **F** 'course, baby girl. Go ahead." he quickly answers between kisses he leaves on his way to your left nipple and gives it the same treatment he gave to the right one when he finally reaches it.

Your right hand flies to his hair after he's given you permission and you whine and pull it the dark strands, making him growl as he fully sucks your nipple in, flicking his tongue between the swollen nub and the barbell going through it. After what feels like minutes of making you squirm, mewl and whine beneath his ministrations, he finally leaves your sore nipples alone and goes straight back to assaulting your mouth, his tongue pushing past your already slightly parted lips, not giving you a damn second to catch your breath but you don't mind one bit.

" **Y** ou're so fuckin' pretty." he whispers against your lips before sitting down on his calves, taking his time to admire you and to take you all in as he realizes that he finally has his girl in her birthday suit, " **M** y pretty baby." he breathes you and you're unsure if he meant for you to catch that or not, but you most definitely did, " **F** ucking hell, you have no fuckin' idea just how fucking beautiful you are and it's a goddamn shame and that just won't fucking do for me, sweetheart."

Carefully, he shuffles around and changes his position so that your legs are now outside of his and he's kneeling between them. His eyes never leaving yours, he softly grabs the back of each of your thighs, his eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might want him to stop or that you might be uncomfortable with what he's doing but he only finds confusion there. No panic or fear, just complete and utter confusion.

" **W** hat are you- I don't - I don't think you're s-supposed to look d-down there-" you panic, your chest heaving frantically and your hands fisting the sheets in a white-knuckled grip but you don't move a muscle.  

" **Y** ou trust me, baby?" he asks, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaves a soft kiss on the side of your right knee.

" **Y** -yes bu-but-"

" **T** hen let me show you. It's okay, just relax."

" **B** ut-" your eyes pop wide open when you see him laying down on the bed, his head uncomfortably close to one of most intimate part of your body and having your legs held wide open isn't helping, " **Y** -you're not-" your hands violently pull the silky sheets covering the bed as Negan's tongue boldly runs past your lips until the very tip of his tongue ends up grazing the hood of your clit, making your back arch completely off the bed, a groan leaving his mouth and you're pretty sure that your cheeks are melting at this point.

" **F** -fuck! Daddy, please-" you start cursing and panting, completely unable to form a proper sentence as he's literally eating you alive.

You're a complete wreck, between the feeling of his fingers keeping you open, his tongue rounding the edges of your clit over and over again, the feeling of his beard scratching the sensitive skin of your inner-thighs and his free hand pushing against your belly to pin you to the bed and keep you from moving around is all too much for you. This is all new and foreign and you had no idea that this kind of feelings actually existed and now they're completely overwhelming you.

You take a deep, shaky breath before pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at him properly but you fall right back down when you see just how dark his eyes are as he looks straight back at you and that he's still wearing that stupid smirk of his.

The noises filling the room are so obscene to you but it's like fucking music to him. He's addicted to it, he loves the sounds you make, he craves them and, goddamn, he loves having you panting and whimpering beneath him, he never felt so goddamn powerful in his entire life.

Your legs start to shake and you call out for him, still unsure of what's happening to your body. You need him to reassure you, it's all still pretty scary to you.

You feel his mouth leaving your clit, whimpering at the loss but you're quick to get back on your feet as his lips crash against yours and his right thumb starts drawing patterns on the throbbing bundle of nerves to bring you over that edge that your body is so badly craving.

" **C** 'mon, baby girl." he growls out, making shivers run all over your body, " **L** et it go, it's okay." he reassures right against your parted lips. 

You whimper and hide your face in the crook of his neck, your hips moving to a messy rhythm on their own accord, it feels like you have no control over your body whatsoever and it kind of scares the crap out of you.

" **I** t's alright, baby, cum for me. Right now, cum for daddy, doll." when you try to squirm away from him, he doesn't let up and simply follow you on the mattress before bringing his free hand down on your waist to pin you down, his left thumb never slowling down on your weeping clit, " **S** 'okay, baby." he coos though his voice is rough and sharp, " **J** ust let it happen. Go ahead, be a good girl and cum for daddy, princess." you whine and scream out when he leans down at bites down on your pulse point, your legs shaking and you can feel something like a coil in your belly and it's just about ready to snap and break you in half, " **F** ucking do it now." he orders in a growl, his voice filled with authority and that does it.

His words are apparently all it takes for you to completely explode, your toes curl to the point that it hurts, your back aches so much it pushes you completely flush against Negan's chest which allows him to keep on sucking at your pulse point and you have to bite your lip in order to keep the scream threatening to spill out from doing so but a cry still makes its way past your lips and another one right after so you end up giving in and decide to just let it happen.

" **Y** eah, that's it, baby. Good girl, [y/n], let it all out. Just for me, yeah?"

" **J** -just for you! Fuck!"

After he'd helped you ride out your high, Negan's thumb finally slows down and slowly comes to a stop when he's sure he's milked your orgasm for all its worth, leaving you a mess on the mattress. Your chest is quickly heaving up and down, some of your still damp hair are sticking to your forehead, your nipples are still painfully taut and you feel a constant throb between your legs and a soreness all over your freshly marked throat.

" **Y** ou're such a good girl, baby." he coos, kissing your lips again but more gently this time around.

" **M** 'tired." you whisper with a small yawn as you feel like all of your worries have been taken away from you.

" **Y** eah?" he asks with deep chuckle, arousal still cursing through his veins, " **W** ell, get some rest, pretty girl. Dinner ain't ready yet, I'll wake you up when it'll get there, yeah?"

" **N** o, stay with me. Pretty please?" you shyly ask, your cheeks still burning, as you feel like you might be getting to attached to this man when you clearly shouldn't even think of him the way you do.

He looks at you for a moment, wondering if staying with you is that good of an idea but he can't bring himself to deny you, not right now, hell, not ever, actually. He doesn't usually do that kind of things, he doesn't chase after one girl, he doesn't crave a specific person, he doesn't get irritable whenever said person isn't around, fuck, he doesn't usually miss or need anyone.

He did something pretty damn big today and he knows he can't tell you about it because he's not even sure if he'll go through with it. Simon told him that it wouldn't change a damn thing and that it might actually be better for the whole community but it's a big step to take and he's not sure if he's willing to take that damn step, he's not sure if it's that he doesn't want to or if it's that he's afraid he'll regretting it later on.

The most simple decision there is to take is becoming a fucking challenge for him and it's all because of you.

" **N** -Negan?" your small voice brings him out of his cowardly thoughts and back to you.

" **H** m?"

" **Y** -you uh- You d-don't have to stay, you know? I'm sorry." you whisper, afraid that the moment of absence he's just had might have been because of you.

" **M** eh, it's not like I can go running around the place with a hard dick anyway, baby." he says with a smirk, trying to play it all off like he's not more than willing to stay in bed with you all day, everyday. Stripping out of his clothes but keeping his briefs on, he joins you beneath the sheets, immediately bringing you against his chest like he's afraid you might vanish, " **W** e'll have to talk tomorrow, doll."

" **W** -why not tonight?"

" **W** hy not tomorrow?" he simply replies, completely dodging your question before kissing the top of your head, " **G** et some rest, pretty baby."

" **O** -okay." you break, curling yourself up further against his chest, nervous and upset but you're not sure why.

" **H** ey," he lifts your head up for you to look at him, "it's okay, sweetheart. You're not goin' anywhere and neither am I."

" **P** romise?"

" **I** fucking swear to fucking God and the fucking stars above, baby." he says with a smirk, making you giggle against his chest. He watches with a smile as your breath becomes heavy with sleep and your eyes flutter close, your lids heavy with fatigue.

" **W** hat the hell are you doing to me, doll. Fucking hell." he whispers to your sleeping figure before turning off the lights, careful not to move around too much not to wake you, before pushing you further against his body and resting his head on top of yours, slowly falling asleep with a bunch of shit on his mind, shit he doesn't know how to deal with but that he'll **have** to deal with _**without**_ hurting you in the process.

It's kind of the whole point of the thing after all; to stop hurting his princess. That's all he wants and he knows that he's being immature, stupid and selfish living the way he does but he can't help it. His ego is fucking enormous and he feels like one single person just won't be able to deal with that.

All he knows is that he did what he did today because he's scared shitless at the idea of losing or hurting you further than he already has. Plus, he's not stupid, he sees the way Randall looks at you and he's not sure how you feel about him, one thing he does know though is that; **he can't fucking stand the thought of you with someone else** , it angers him beyond belief and he can't have that, he won't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN: I HAVE PROOFREAD MY WORK BUT DON'T BE MAD IF YOU FIND SOME ENORMOUS TYPOS IN THERE, MY EYES ARE STILL GIVING ME A HARD TIME SO I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN WITH WHAT I HAVE RIGHT NOW. I KNOW IT'S FRUSTRATING TO READ SOMETHING FILLED WITH HORRIBLE TYPOS AND ALL BUT I'LL GO BACK AND CHECK ON IT WHEN I'LL BE ABLE TO SEE PROPERLY, I HOPE YOU GUYS AREN'T TOO MAD AT ME.
> 
> Hey baby cakes! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter (you betta cos it was a freaking pain in the butt for me to upload, I was so nervous I could have, like, totally died and stuff) (in all seriousness though, s'okay if you didn't enjoy it, m'just sorry that you've totally wasted your time reading this poop, my poop).
> 
> ANYWAAAAAY! HOW ARE YOU LIL ANGELS DOING?  
> I hope you're all having an amazing day/night and that you took some time to take care of yourself and do things that make you happy today, if not, go do it, right now, this is an order, love yourself damn it.
> 
> One thing I wanted(ish) to talk to you guys about is that;
> 
> Depression is a bitch to live with, hell, I know that for a fact but I need you, all of you, to know that, no matter what that bitch keeps putting in your head, it's false.  
> It will get better.  
> You do deserve to live.  
> You're not weak for feeling whatever you're feeling and for whatever reason you're feeling it, it's valid.  
> People do love you but you have to understand that most of them don't know how to deal with this illness so they usually freak the hell out and are clumsy about it but do not let your depression turn this shit upside down, people care no matter how clumsy they are about it all.
> 
> ALSO! One thing you might not know about me (maybe some of you actually noticed? let's hope not for the love of fuck) I have A.D.D.
> 
> I have A.D.D, strong anxieties, depression, my eyes are hypersensitive and so is my body AND I get awful headaches at least once a week so... yeah... I had a point believe it or not...
> 
> RIGHT! The point is; no matter what, no matter how much it feels like you can't really do anything because of whatever condition you have, you can always find a way (unless you wanna become a shark, then you can't, I'm pretty sure... I dunno, would be cool though... man, i love sharks) I mean, hell, look at me! I'm a mess, I don't really have that good a condition to be posting anything online... where anyone can see it... but I'm still doing it no matter how shitty I can feel about it sometimes and no matter how stressed I get after I upload every single chapters and y'know what? You guys make it all better, all the damn time.
> 
> You're all seriously so kind and patient with me, I've always been insecure about my A.D.D because grown ass people actually gave me so much shit about it and I seriously though that I'll never be able to write anything, no matter how much I wanted to because of that but I'm doing it, in my own time but, still, I'm doing it and that's enough for me.
> 
> ANYWAY! Enough rambling, I can't believe you guys actually read those notes, I must bore the crap out of you but if my stupidity can make at least one of you smile the slightest bit then I'm all good.
> 
> Okay, I'mma let you go now, buh-bye angels, have an amazing day/or sleep tight, I love you, stay safe.


	16. Blood stains //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I know, this chapter is super late and I'm really, truly, sorry about that but I didn't really have a choice on that one, angels.
> 
> I've been hospitalized because of my awful headaches and they kept me under surveillance for three days then sent me back home, thing is; I wasn't allowed to be in front of a screen for too long because I had to let my eyes rest properly, they're still pretty damn tired but they're way better than they were two weeks ago so that's great. Anyway, I clearly couldn't write... or read which, to be honest, almost drove me to insanity, but I'm back, I did not forget about my work, I'm not stopping the story either, if I even do for whatever reason I will let you know, I won't just up and leave, that much I can promise you.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you guys'll enjoy this chapter, I actually am really happy to finally be uploading it o3o but, again, please forgive a few typos here and there -or all over the fucking place, I don't really trust my eyes atm-, my eyes are still giving me a hard time even though they're slowly getting better, I can't promise you that I didn't mess up, like; typed the wrong letter or something like that but I promise I try to be careful, that's really the best I can do right now though so I hope you guys aren't too pissed off and that you still can find a way to enjoy the story.  
> (plus, just because everything hates me, I woke up with an horrible headache today so... yay!)
> 
> Okay, buh-bye, I luv you.

**7:00 PM //**

He can't explain it, he doesn't really feel the need to if he's being honest. He's scared of what you're doing to him and the things you're forcing him to feel and his mind to acknowledge but, no matter how wrong it feels to him, he still lets it happen which is something he never, ever, does -ever-.

He's fascinated and slightly freaked out as he watches his very own hand run through your hair with a gentleness he absolutely had no idea he had in him. It's almost like he's scared to break you, like he's afraid that you'll wake up and vanish for some goddamn reason.

He hates it, he hates that you're not his, that there's other men looking at you the way only he should, that you don't seem to be all that faced by his shitty behavior but, goddamn, does he love the fact that you're not someone he can just mold however he wants nor order around like a toy, he'll never admit it but he fucking **loves** it.

" **D** amn it, princess, what the hell are you doing to me?" he asks your sleeping figure for the second time tonight in a whisper, squinting his eyes and carefully watching your sleepy face.

He's not used to being affectionate with- well, anyone, really, he didn't even know that he could be. He had no idea that he could grow attached to someone again, he didn't want to but now it seems like you've caught him into the most viscous, toxic, unhealthy, fucking wonderful web there is and he knows you'll eat him alive if he lets you but he can't bring himself to try and break free, he's good right here.

Deep down, he knows that the relationship you two have isn't healthy for you, at all, but he can't let it go, he can't let **you** go, he doesn't want to, even if it means you'll end up getting hurt. He doesn't give a shit because he knows that he'll be right here to pick up the pieces, he just has to hope that the pieces don't end up turning into even finer dust and he knows that it's a huge risk after all you've been through, you're already so fragile, and he's part of the reason why.

He hates fucking up and hurting you but he can't help it, he feels like he needs to break you so you'll come running back to him and, hell, you do, **every single time**. He knows you won't come to him just for the hell of it, of course he knows, he's a piece of shit, he's nothing good and you, well, you're his complete opposite. He knows you have nothing to do with him but he wants you so he'll break the rules over and over again, consequences be damned.

His attention is brought back to you when he feels you squirming against his chest, smiling when he hears you whimper softly in your sleep. He's never seen anyone sleep so damn deeply and he loves the fact that you feel safe enough in his arms to let yourself go like that, it feeds his giant fucking ego but it also makes his heart swell which isn't a feeling he's used to, at all. 

He's pretty sure you're having a bad dream right now, the way your face is scrunching up, the way your breath keeps on getting faster and faster and the smile on his face fades to a frown when it hits him. He doesn't know what to do about it though, he has no fucking clue.

A knock on the door of his office makes him grunt in annoyance and he carefully gets out of bed, gently putting your head on one of his pillows. Looking back at you once he's out of bed to make sure that he didn't wake you, he silently leaves the bedroom and clumsily puts a pair of grey sweatpants on, not bothering to put on a shirt, before opening the door of his office with a grumpy expression on his face.

" **I** \- Uh- Sorry to disturb you, I just, uh, brought you your dinner." Dwight says, carefully handing Negan a tray filled with food.

" **T** hanks, Dwighty boy but I don't recall that shit being your fucking job?"

" **W** ell- I mean, I know you usually ask one of your wives to bring you your meals but, well, they're all kind of pissed off about the whole... Y'know, day out working and all."

" **J** esus fucking Christ!" Negan exclaims with a laugh, " **W** ell shit! Would ya believe that, they're pissed because I made 'em work for once in their fucking lives? Fucking hell, Dwighty boy, the ride back home must have been real shitty, uh?"

" **Y** up, t'was, but, y'know, doesn't matter. They're all here, they're all safe."

" **T** hey in bed?"

" **Y** es, boss."

" **G** ood, 'cause I'm not dealin' with pissy little brats tonight."

" **I** \- Uh... We might have a problem though."

" **O** h yeah? And what fucking problem might that be, Dwight?"

" **W** e uh, we can't find [y/n]." Dwight nervously admit, afraid that you might have run off again. Frowning slightly when Negan chuckles and grins at the confession.

" **Y** eah, I got it covered, Dwighty boy, don't worry 'bout that. Now go get some rest, y'deserve it."

" **A** lright then. Goodnight, Negan."

He waits for Dwight to walk away before closing the door, locking it and walking back to the bedroom only to find you sitting in the middle of his bed, your knees against your chest, tears rolling down your face, looking lost and... hurt?

" **H** ey, baby, why're you crying?" he asks with a worried frown, ditching the tray of food on top of his dresser before walking to your side of the bed, sitting down next to you.

" **I** j-just- I had- I had a nightmare a-and you- you weren't t-there and- I- I though you-you left and-" you can't finish your sentence as a sob rips through you and you quickly bring a pillow on your thighs to burying your face in it and cry into the soft, plush mound only for it to be snatched away from you.

" **C** 'mere, sweet thing." Negan says before lifting you up and sitting you on his thighs, not waiting for you to even try and decide for yourself.

You don't complain though and immediately hide your face into the crook of his neck, seeking some safety and comfort as Negan finds himself weirded out by the fact that the most beautiful girl he's ever seen is completely naked on his laps, her skin touching his, yet he doesn't want anything else but to comfort her, which is, like, really fucking weird to him and he's not sure how he's supposed to feel about it, he's lost and he fucking hates it.

He doesn't know why he hates to see and hear you cry so fucking much, he doesn't know why he would care so damn much about someone and the fact that he does care so fucking much really pisses him off.

He's so used to people being terrified of him, to hurt and kill others that he's completely forgotten the most important thing there is; he's a human being and that shit comes with a bunch of horrible feelings that no one seems to know how to fucking handle. And, like most humans; he doesn't want that.

The only difference he feels there is between him and everyone else is that he feels as if he can't afford it. Yet here he is, hushing you, one of his hands rubbing your bare back whilst the other rests on the back of your head, keeping your face buried into his neck.

" **D** -do you know if- if Randall is o-okay?" you quietly ask against his neck, afraid to look at him which leaves you completely clueless to the fact that Negan's eyes just got a shade darker and his jaw clenched shut at the mention of another man.

His blood is boiling, he doesn't fucking care how Randall is doing and he doesn't want you to fucking care either, especially not when you're here with him, in his fucking arms, " **I** don't fucking know, baby girl. Now, you hungry?" he feels your body tensing in his hold as he voice comes out harsher and colder than even he expected but he knows he won't apologize for it even though he **should**  and parts of him wants to.

" **I** -"

" **W** asn't a question, I want you to eat somethin', doll. You're done skippin' meals and that's that." he sharply says, dropping you on the bed quite carelessly before walking towards his dresser to grab the tray of food he's left behind in his rush to get to you and brings it back to the bed with him.

_well shit, completely ignore my goddamn question while you're at it, ya prick..._

You absently stare at the mirror facing the bed on the other side of the room as the nightmare you just had keeps on replaying in your mind like a movie going in circles.

You keep seeing this small, dark room and there's feet covered by a pair of black boots dangling in the air, there's an awful smell in the room, a smell that you're all too familiar with yet you can't seem to be able to identify it. You're lost and your face is soaking in your tears as you look up only to see Randall lifeless body hanging from the ceiling, a rope tightly holding his throat, keeping air out of his lungs and then everything just goes black and it all repeats itself like a perfect, wicked loop.

You open a door, walk into a room, smell a terrible odor, spot a pair of feet, start to cry, spot Randall and it never stops unless you wake up.

The only thing on your mind right now is the blond, tattooed man. You worry about him, it hurts you to see just how damaged he is and you wish you could make it all better, that you could go back and push Connor out of the way, react, do something, anything, even it means dying for him, you'll do it without any hesitation to save your friend's life and let Randall be happy for, at least, another day.

You didn't mean for Connor to die but it happened anyway and now you have to live with that on your conscience which makes you wonder; how does someone like Negan does it? How do you keep on going knowing that you're the cause of someone's death? Is it different when you actually meant to kill that person? Because you sure as shit didn't mean nor want Connor and the man Negan forced you to kill to die, you absolutely did not.

" **D** oll, where the hell d'you go just now?" Negan's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, any trace of coldness now gone from his voice.

" **I** uh- I'm not hungry." you quietly say, avoiding eye contact with him.

" **I** already told you, I don't give a damn if you're hungry or not. You need to fuckin' eat." and there's that cold tone again.

" **I** ate this morning!" you snap back, your voice slightly raising and it feels like your head is about to explode from all the damn thoughts going through it at the same damn time.

" **D** on't fuckin' raise your goddamn voice at me, girl." he lets out with a snarl, clearly angered by your attitude.

You only scoff at his words and get out of his bed before heading to the bathroom to get your clothes, trying not to overthink the fact that you're walking around completely naked but your hands still come up to cover your chest until you find your t-shirt laying on the bathroom's floor and quickly put it on before clumsily sliding back into your panties, now looking for your jeans, you just want to cover yourself up right now.

" **A** re you fucking serious right now, doll?" Negan asks, clearly displeased, as leans against the door frame of the bathroom, watching you carefully.

" **I** just- I need to be on my own."

" **L** ike hell you do." he spats out before stepping into the bathroom, harshly picking your jeans off the ground before you actually get the chance to get to them, " **W** hat the hell went wrong this time, uh? What is it?" he asks, his fist clenched shut on your jeans as he's clearly getting impatient on you.

" **N** egan, please, I just-" you sigh, tired of always ending up in the same goddamn loop with him. It's always the same damn thing, it's all good and then he suddenly goes back to being an asshole and you're sick of it, " **W** e- We were good but you just- You just had to go back to being a controlling p-prick." 

" **I** 'm fucking worried about you, angel face." he admits with an oddly soft voice, making you look up at him, confusion marking your features, " **I** need you to fucking eat something, even if it's just a goddamn piece of bread, I don't give a shit."

" **W** hy- Why do y-you suddenly ca-care about me?" you ask, not knowing make of his behavior anymore.

" **W** hy are you so fucking scared of being cared for, [y/n]?" he asks with a small smirk, his playfulness slowly coming back around when it's not fucking needed in your opinion, " **H** ow fucking badly have you been treated, baby girl?"

_fuck off._

" **R** andall t-treats me well. He-he cares about me." you answer barely above a whisper, your head dropping down, part of you not wanting Negan to hear that.

" **Y** eah?" he asks and you can fucking hear his damn smirk in his voice, making you want to punch him, at least that's until he pops up right in front of you, invading your personal space and pushing you against the counter in the bathroom, the marble cold and hard, making you wince in discomfort, " **Y** a really believe that he can treat you better than I ever will, baby girl? S'that it?" he asks, poison in his voice as he speaks, " **C** 'mon now, doll. Tell me." he insists when you don't say a word, his face now uncomfortably close to yours, so close that your noses are pushing against one another and your lips are only a hairsbreadth away from crashing into each other.

_yes i do, of course i fucking do._

" **I** \- I don't- I" you feel like crying, you can't find a damn thing to say to him, it's all stuck inside your head and nothing's coming out of your mouth. You're literally just gasping for air right now and the only coherent thing your brain can come up with at the moment is to kiss the man in front of you.

And, just like that, you're shyly pushing your head forward and leave a single, chaste kiss on his lips, pulling away before he can even register what just happened. Shaking off the initial shock, he quickly falls back on his feet, a smirk appearing on his lips, and he harshly brings you right back to him, his hands firmly holding your waist, before pushing his lips against yours making you whimper. You try and slow the kiss down, to put some distance between your half-covered bodies but it only proms him to push you completely flush against him, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers digging in the soft skin through your t-shirt, sure to leave marks if not bruises. 

" **Y** ou're not his, doll, you're fucking mine." he whispers huskily, his forehead resting against yours.

" **W** -what if- What if I don't w-want to be?" you ask, your body shaking nervously.

" **I** don't give a single fucking shit, princess. Now c'mon, let's go eat somethin' and go the fuck back to sleep." he plants a kiss to your forehead and you almost flinch but manage to stay still, " **W** e gotta get some shit done tomorrow, baby."

And, just like that; he leaves the room, leaving you all alone to realize just how terrified you actually are of him.

_did he just say that he didn't give a shit that you didn't want to be his? what the hell is going on...?_

You're terrified, you literally cannot move, you're frozen in place. You can't believe that it took you so long to realize how fucking stupid and dangerous it is to have a thing for this man. Of course you had to go and crush on **this** man like a stupid school girl.

_well, maybe now's time to grow the fuck up._

 

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﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

**2:00 AM //**

The room is dark and awfully quiet by now. You did everything he told you to do; you ate a little bit and the two of you had little conversations but, even though he didn't seem bothered at all, you felt terrified and awkward just being there with him and now you're in his bed again but you can't stop waking up every ten damn minutes.

He's snoozing away right next to you so you decide to quietly get out of bed and sneak out, ignoring the fact that you're still not wearing any pants nor a bra but you don't really give a damn, it's two in the morning, no one should be walking around the damn place at this hour anyway.

You quickly run into the bathroom to grab your pants, bra, socks and your combat boots before opening the door of his bedroom, wincing when the wooden door creaks in an obnoxiously loud manner, you take a quick glance behind you to make sure that Negan's still asleep and let a small sigh of relief out when you see him still deeply asleep.

You get out of the bedroom and walk through his office before sneaking out, quietly closing the door behind you before quickly walking out of his quarters through the big door leading to a staircase outside.

The cold air of the night immediately attacks your delicate skin the second you open the heavy steel door and you regret not having socks on when your bare feet make contact with the horribly cold steel of the staircase.

" **W** ell, I'm a smart person." you whisper bitterly but with a small smile on your lips.

As you make your way down the stairs, you hear people laughing and you immediately feel safe as you recognize Faith and Dwight's voices. You wince when your bare feet hit the hard, concrete ground of the front yard and your little noises seems to be enough to catch Faith's attention as you see her rounding the wall hiding you away from her and Dwight, shinning a flashlight on you.

"[ **Y** /n]? Honey, what are you-" she stops and looks up and down at you, frowning at your lack of clothes but her expression softens shortly after, " **Y** ou ran off, uh." she says with a small laugh, not mocking you but clearly amused by the fact that Negan doesn't seem to ever be able to get it right with you.

" **W** hat you got, Faith?" Dwight asks from afar before appearing from behind the wall, surprise showing on his face when he spots you with your clothes and boots in your arms, only wearing a shirt and a pair of panties, " **S** hit, where you-? Damn, I actually was worried about you, [y/n]. Hell, Randall is losing his shit too right now-"

You don't let him finish and run past him and Faith at the mention of Randall to quickly making your way into the compound, running through the place before ending up in the corridor leading to the bedrooms and you don't give a shit if you make noise, you just want to see Randall, you want to know that he's okay, you **need**  to know.

You stop in front of his door and repeatedly knock on the damn thing in a complete blind panic. Your heart seems to skip a few beats and it feels like you're about to pass out or throw up, you're not too sure which one. The door finally creaks open in front of you, leaving you knocking on emptiness as your brain doesn't seem to register that the door actually opened.

"[ **Y** /n]? Oh, thank fuck." he lets out, clearly relieved to see you, before bringing you to him and tightly closing his arms around you, making you giggle and cry in relief.

" **I** 'm sorry, Randall. I'm so sorry." you keep repeating "sorry" over and over, you don't even realize that Randall brought you inside his room and closed the door.

" **H** ey, hey, it's okay, [y/n]." he coos before kissing the crown of your head, " **C** alm down, sweet pea, you're okay, I promise. It's okay." he softly whispers in your ear, " **Y** ou're safe, I promise, [y/n]. I promise."

" **I** 'm scared." you cry into the crook of his neck, completely panicked.

" **S** cared of what, sweet pea? What the hell happened? Why are you carrying your clothes and not wearin' them?"

" **N** -Negan- Negan said that- But I- I just- I thought- But- Then we- I don't know!" you messily string together and sob into his neck, soaking his skin, as your hands snake around his neck, your left one resting there as the right one sneaks into his thick blond hair, pulling him closer to you and if he gets any closer you two'll merge together for sure.

" **H** ey, shh, it's okay, sweet pea. You're safe here, I promise."

You take a deep breath and finally look at him pushing the tip of your nose against his making him smile, " **H** i." you softly whisper as you finally make eye contact with him, your eyes puffy from all the crying you've been doing.

" **H** ey there." he replies just as softly, making you laugh and that's all he wanted, to make you laugh even just a tiny little bit. 

You let out a relieved sigh and let your head fall on his shoulder, your lashes tickling his neck, covering his skin with goosebumps but he doesn't move away, he doesn't want to, " **W** e should leave." you whisper, making him turn his head so you lift your head off of his shoulder to look at him again, " **Y** ou and I. We should run away, we could and we should."

"[ **Y** /n]-"

" **P** lease." you plead, clearly upset at the idea of spending your remaining days in this place.

"[ **Y** /n]," he starts, his voice serious but soft as he absently rubs one of his thumbs across your soft cheek, "wherever you wanna go, whatever you wanna do, I'm down. Always." he quietly says with a tired but genuine smile.

" **Y** ou are?" you ask, shocked yet really flattered and seriously relieved that he trusts you the way he does.

" **H** ell yeah, this Chicago boy is a ride or die kinda guy." he says with a small chuckle, making the faintest of smiles appear on your lips, " **P** lus, I can't ever say no to those damned puppy eyes of yours, sweet pea." he adds, getting a giggle out of you and the sound is enough to make him forget about his own heartache.

You hug him tightly, silently telling him just how much he means to you and he hugs you right back, tightly keeping you against his bare chest, only breaking away from you to look at you and laugh, confusing you.

_okay, what did we do now? seriously, dude._

" **S** orry, princess, it's just-" he pauses and softly chuckles, the sound alone making you feel at home, " **Y** our nips are poking me, sweet pea." he points out with a grin as your cheeks literally start to melt down and you feel like jumping into an active volcano to escape the embarrasement.

" **W** -"

" **D** idn't think you'd be a piercings kinda gal, sweet pea." he teases, clearly enjoying to see you so flustered.

_well shit, didn't see that one coming, fucking hell..._

" **S** hut your mouth, you're the worst." you reply, softly hitting his chest in annoyance and embarrassment. 

He laughs and gently kisses your temple, making you involuntarily bite down your lip at the soft gesture.

" **M** 'just teasing you, sweet pea, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You do you, never forget that." he says before planting another kiss on your temple, " **N** ow, let's go to bed 'cause you scared the shit out of me, waking me up with your crazy knocking skills."

" **I** got mad skills, bruh."

" **F** uck yeah, you do, betch."

You both laugh at your own stupidity and you wait for Randall to put you back down but he literally throws you on his bed instead, making you bounce on it like a rag-doll, giggles pouring out of your mouth.

Being with him is always so damn different than being with Negan. You love being with Randall, he's gentle, kind and always means well. He makes you feel normal, he makes you feel like things are gotta be alright no matter how bad they might get before-hand, you just genuinely love and enjoy his company.

You crawl underneath the sheets of his bed and purr when you find a really warm spot, indicating that that's where he's been sleeping before you gave him quite the wake up call.

" **Y** ou're just gonna steal my spot like that, sweet pea? How rude." you hear him say as he walks towards the bed. As you look around, you spot your clothes neatly folded on a chair, your boots on the floor next to it.

_oh god, he's so fucking sweet and caring, what the hell._

It's such a small gesture but he could have left your clothes on the floor, hell, **you did**. So him actually picking them up, folding them and putting them somewhere safe really makes your heart melt and your cheeks burn as you recall your bra being in that pile.

You feel the bed dip to your right and you quickly make room for Randall so that you both can share his already warmed up spot since the rest of the bed is ridiculously cold and your little gesture makes him smile.

" **W** hy, thank you, madam."

" **Y** ou're welcome, good sir."

" **S** o," he starts before putting his hands behind his head on his pillow and you take the opportunity to go and rest your head against his ink covered chest, the gesture making him smile as he brings one hand down to reassuringly rest in the middle of your back, "I saw Dwight and Faith flirting today, I never felt so damn alone in my damn life."

" **W** hat? Seriously? Dwight? And Faith? Are you sure??" you ask, your head never leaving his chest.

" **W** ell, that's a lot of questions there, sweet pea." he gently mocks.

" **W** atch it, Chicago boy, I'll punch you in the groin." you say, raising your balled fist in a half-hearted threat.

" **Y** ou're terrible, y'know that?"

" **I** 've heard." you look up at him from his chest and a laugh leaves your mouth, " **T** his is not the most flattering angle for ya, Randall."

" **H** ey, screw you! I look good all day, everyday." he protests with a mocked pout.

" **Y** eah, you do, Chicago boy." you reassure him before kissing his left pectoral and laying your head back down on it.

" **C** onnor and I, we uh- We had this bet going." he pauses to let out a small chuckle, " **I** told him that Faith and Dwight would become a thing one of those days and he said that it'll never happen, that bastard owns me money." he finishes with an heart-wrenching sad chuckle and you can't tell if he's about to cry or not but his voice is breaking your heart.

" **Y** eah, y'hear that Conny? Dwight and Faith... Sheesh, I wouldn't have believed it either to be honest." you softly say, directly talking to Connor, just like you used to talk to your father after he died. It might be weird to some people but you don't give a shit, it brings you relief and that's all that matters.

You feel Randall's free hand gently coming down on your left cheek before softly rubbing it with his thumb as the one he's resting on your back starts rubbing up and down on your shirt, " **H** e fucking loved you, y'know? He kept sayin' that you reminded him of his niece, she was eight when this whole shit went down, she just- Y'know, she died." he pauses and lets out a deep, heavy sigh that makes his chest move beneath your head, " **S** he was all he had left, I mean, I was here, with him, but, y'know... it's different. He kept blaming himself for it, said that he should have done somethin', that he should have reacted faster- Bullshit. There wasn't a damn thing he could've done. It took him a long time to actually forgive himself and then, well- Negan found us, killed one of our friends and then he told us to either work for him or to join our friend, Connor almost died that day but Negan said that he liked his guts and that he wanted to keep him around. We had no idea how fucking bad this whole thing was, Connor got really depressed here, it fuckin' killed me to see him like that, everyone always saw him as the smiley and flirty dude but he was really sad behind closed doors."

" **H** e didn't deserve to go like that but- At least he's peaceful now, y'know?"

" **Y** eah. Yeah, he is, princess, and fuck it if he doesn't deserve it. My boy is peeing in God's shoes now." he says with a chuckle.

" **I** hate you, Randall." you say with a small laugh as he compares Connor to a pet, " **B** ut, in all seriousness, I'm sure he's happy to see that you're still talking shit about him."

" **T** hat's how he wanted to be remembered, y'know? He wanted people to remember him as the dude that could make you laugh in the worst case scenarios, the dude that made people happy just because he was there, the dude that acted like he was full of shit but really he was just dicking around... Man, I fucking loved that lil' shit."

" **A** nd he loved you too, don't you ever doubt that, Randall, ever."

" **T** hank you, sweetheart."

" **A** nd uh, I'm sorry- I'm sorry that I didn't let you, y'know... put him down." you whisper the last words, "It should have b-been you and I- I took that away from you, it was selfish of me."

" **H** ey," he gently sits up on the mattress and you follow, sitting legs crossed in front of him, "you didn't do anything wrong, sweet pea. I- I fucking hate to say it but I couldn't have done it and- And if I wouldn't have been able to put him down, Negan would have taken advantage of it and he would have brought him back to fucking use him on the fence and it would have fucking destroyed me, [y/n]."

_he wouldn't have done that? right?_

" **I** \- That's so messed up, I can't believe he would- No, he wouldn't have- Randall?"

" **W** ouldn't have been the first time, sweetheart." he stops, realizing that his words are upsetting you, " **I** 'm sorry, shouldn't have talked about it, I just- What you did was far from selfish, it was really fucking brave, [y/n]." he finishes, his right hand coming back on your left cheek, his thumb rubbing your cheek, your eyes closing at the soft gesture, " **T** hat's the stupidest fucking question I'm ever gonna ask but; how the hell are you so goddamn human, sweet pea."

" **I** dunno. I wish I wasn't, it hurts really bad." you genuinely answer with a forced laugh as you slowly open up to him.

" **Y** our humanity isn't what's hurting you, [y/n]." he starts, your eyes fluttering open to look at him, his hand still on your cheek, " **W** hat gets you hurt is that you're too fucking good for this damned world."

" **Y** eah, right." you whisper, making him frown, " **I** 'm not- I'm not any better than the people living here, Randall-"

" **L** ike hell you aren't." he snaps, clearly not agreeing with your statement.

" **N** o. No, I'm not." you reply calmly, nervously pulling at the hem of your shirt, " **I** \- I've killed people, Randall." you look up at him and he seems upset but he encourages you to keep going with a small nod of his head, " **I** just- I have blood on my hands, you know? I hate that I do but- Well, I do and I can't deny it. I can't go around acting like I'm cleaner than the rest, 'cause I'm not. And I- I can't-" you pause, your head dropping before an heavy sigh pushes past your lips, " **T** here's a bunch of things that I did, things I'm not okay with, things that I don't want to be okay with, Randall. I don't want murder to become a casualty for me, I can't let that happen, I don't want to let that happen, I won't. I don't want- I don't wanna be like him."

Your whole body jolts back when you feel Randall's hands gently framing your tired face to make you look up at him and, when you do, he gives you a reassuring smile, silently telling you that the way you feel is valid but not necessary. You're no killer, he knows that and he respects the hell out of you for that too.

" **Y** 'know why Negan did what he did? Y'know why he made you kill that man?" you furrow your eyebrows, trying to think of a proper answer but you actually are really confused as to why anyone would force anyone to kill but Randall clearly wasn't looking for an answer to his question, " **H** e did it because you don't break. You don't. No matter what he says or does, you're still on your feet and not down on your knees and it pisses him off. He hates it, hell, if it wasn't for whatever the fuck he feels for you, he would have already killed you, sweet pea. He can't fucking stand when people disobey him and misbehave. Connor-" he pauses for a second and carefully examine your face, making sure that you're alright, " **C** onnor never, ever, killed before he met Negan, ever. But Negan decided that he had to be able to do so if he wanted to keep on living here so, one day, he brought Connor with him in one of the community that works for him and he told Connor to kill a dude. The look on his face when he came back- Man, he was fucking terrified and I've never saw so upset and shocked. When he told me about it, I almost lost my shit, I wanted to cut Negan to pieces but I never had the guts to... Thing is, Connor died a long time ago."

" **Y** ou're wrong." you say, making Randall tilt his head to the side, " **C** onnor was still right here, with you, with us. He was an amazing person and he deserved way better and- And maybe- Maybe his death was the best thing that could happen to him, I hate to say things like this but- I don't know, it's just- One day, I went out, I went to Hilltop and I got caught up in a conversation with Jesus. I- I didn't care about the fact that I was gonna be way late, I knew Negan'd be pissed but I didn't care, I was scared when I came back though, but- Connor was working the night-shift that day, he opened the gate for me and he actually took the time to talk to me-" you pause, a small laugh passing through your lips, making Randall smile.

" **W** hat is it?" he asks, curious as to what's so funny to you.

" **I** t's just- That night, he also told me all about how he had mad skills when it came to writing personal information in the snow with his pee, t'was... An interesting conversation."

The two of you start laughing, Randall eventually ended up grabbing your waist and laying the two of you back down on the bed, letting you settle against his chest again before bringing the warm bed sheet over your bodies. You two kept talking, mostly about your past, who you used to be and what you used to do and love, until you both ended up falling deeply asleep. Randall's hands never letting go of you and yours resting on his torso.

You never fell asleep so peacefully, ever, not even before the outbreak, and it's a more than welcome change if you're being honest.

 

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**7:15** **AM** **; //**

Randall's eyes flutter open, groaning as the sunlight invading his bedroom blinds him before turning around to let his head fall into his pillow.

" **M** orning, sleepy head." you greet him, gently sitting next to him on the bed.

" **M** orning, sweet pea. Ugh, what time is it?"

" **A** quarter past seven-"

" **W** hat?! Oh fuck no, I overslept." he clumsily gets out of bed, getting all tangled up in his sheets, only to fall flat on the floor, making a loud thud in impact.

" **O** h my God, a-are you-" you can't finish your sentence as laughter burst through you, you feel sorry for the guy but his fall was also pretty damn funny.

" **U** uuuugh! Stop laughing at me, you lil' shit." he demands with a laugh, slowly getting up off the floor just to watch your body folding in two, tears in your eyes as you can't seem to be able to stop laughing and it only makes him laugh again, your laugh contagious.

" **I** -I'm so-so sorry, oh my God, but that was beautiful." you take a deep breath, wipe your tears away and straighten back up before looking at him, " **A** re you okay?"

" **N** o, I'm not! You laughed at me, gimme a hug and maybe, just maybe, I'll forgive you."

You smile and make your way to his side of the bed before hugging him tightly, apologizing for laughing at him, making him smile, " **W** hat a fucking way to start the day, uh?" he says with a grin, keeping you firmly against his chest.

" **Y** eah, maybe we should, like, cancel today or something."

" **H** ell, that'd be fucking amazing but I don't think Negan's gonna go for it though, y'know?"

You only scoff, pissed that someone else is making the calls for you. You hate that, you like to be free, you like to be able to say "fuck it, I'm not doing anything today" and you're gonna get all of that back, **you will** , no matter what.

" **Y** ou should- You should get ready, I'll wait for you at the cafeteria, sounds good?"

" **Y** eah. Yeah, f'course, sweet pea. Be there in five."

" **A** lright." you shyly kiss his cheek and walk out of his bedroom, your boots clinking along with every step you take, you usually never pay any attention to that sound but it seems like it's the only thing you hear this morning and it pisses you off.

_stupid noisy boots._

You make your way to the cafeteria and you can't help but get a bad feeling about just how quiet the whole place is. You try to ignore it but it's hard, the only thing that you can hear are people working in the compound, the halls are empty and so is the cafeteria, except for the "cooks" that are working in the kitchen.

You sit down on one of the tables, waiting for Randall and hoping that Faith is gonna show up as well as you anxiously pull on your fingers. The knot in your stomach tightens, something just doesn't feel right and you hate not knowing what it is but you decide to wait and see, just in case.

Looking down at your watch you see that twenty minutes have past and Randall is still nowhere to be found so you decide to take the matters in your own hands and go look for him.

_what the hell is he doing??_

You walk out of the cafeteria and quickly make your way to his bedroom but, when you get there, he's a no-show yet again so you try the showers but they're all empty and that's when you start to freak out a little.

_okay, okay, maybe- maybe he just directly went to work and he forgot to tell us, right? that's possible, right?_

At this point, you're running through the halls, trying to get to the main area of the compound as fast as you can but you stop dead in your tracks when you hear Negan's voice booming in the said aera. You carefully make your way there and you frown when you see Negan's workers all knelled in front of him, Simon and Dwight are by his sides and his "wives" are standing in a corner, looking down at the ground like scared puppies.

" **W** hat the-" you start but quickly stop when you spot Randall, kneeling right in front of Negan, his expression far from scared, it's something feral, and you can feel your heart dropping in your chest.

_what the fuck is going on?_

You step inside the open area and, much to your dismay, Negan seems to hear the single step you've just taken and is quick to turn around to face you before walking towards you. Oddly enough, you find yourself standing your ground, straightening yourself up to show him that you're not backing down this time, you're through with his bullshit.

" **I** can't believe you actually left daddy to wake up all by himself this morning, baby doll." he says with a smirk but he's clearly angry.

" **Y** eah, s'almost like you never asked one of your men to carry me back to my room in the middle of the night while I was asleep, am I right?" you snap back, decided not to let him look down on you again and he seems to enjoy your feisty attitude today as a grin appears on his lips.

You're satisfied with yourself but it quickly fades away when Negan takes it all back by turning back around and harshly punching Randall in the jaw, making the blond man fall flat on the concrete ground.

" **N** egan, don't-"

You're about to step in, you're barely a centimeter away from grabbing your knife when Dwight grabs your arms and keeps them firmly behind your back, making you wiggle around to try and break free but you feel completely cornered when his free hand snake underneath your face to keep you from turning away from the scene displayed in front of you, you can't move, all you can do is breathe heavily and silently beg for Dwight to let go.

" **I** 'm so sorry, it'll be over soon, I promise." he quietly says, trying to reassure you but the hatred you feel for him right now is too strong for his words to do anything else but piss you off even further.

" **S** crew you! Leave him alone!" you scream out, trying to get free from Dwight grip once again but it's all wasted energy.

" **W** ho are you, Randy boy?" you hear Negan say, his voice clear as crystal through the loud ringing in your ears.

" **M** 'Randall." you hear the tattooed man answer weakly as his lungs are desperately trying to get some air but all of Randall's effort to breathe are completely destroyed by a violent kick in the ribs.

" **C** 'mon, now, Randall. You know better than that, kid." Negan snarls with an amused smile and anger in his eyes.

He asks him again and gets the same answer so he hits him and asks him again and it's a never ending loop of pure violence that you're forced to witness. You hate that you actually find yourself wishing that Randall would just give it up and say the word yet you've never been so damn proud of him. You remember him saying "we're all Negan around here" just yesterday and now he's fighting to keep his very own identity.

You're finally run out of energy and you go partially limp in Dwight's grip, all you can do now is cry your heart out as you're forced to watch your best friend getting beat up for no goddamn reason other than another man's pride has been hurt.

Negan slowly stops his assault on Randall only to push the right side of his head flush against the ground with a huge grin on his face, forcing Randall to look at you and you let another sob out when you see just how damaged his face his.

" **F** ucking look at her, Randy boy. The lil' princess is crying her lil' heart out because of you. I don't fucking know why she fucking cares so much about your useless ass yet here she is; fucking crying for you and I don't fucking like having to watch my baby girl cry like that. So, now, you better fucking apologize to her." Negan demands all while looking straight at you, his eyes never leaving your teary ones though you keep on looking down at Randall, feeling more helpless and vulnerable than you ever did in your entire life.

But things only get worst when Randall looks at you and keeps on whispering that he's sorry, only making you crying some more. You don't want to hear him apologize, you're not crying because of him, you're crying because of Negan.

You feel like throwing up when you realize that Negan isn't even finished with the free violence yet and goes back to kicking Randall's already seriously injured body before spitting on the ground right next the his face, no one is batting a single lash even though an innocent man is getting beat up right in from of them, they're all cowards and you hate _**every**_ **_single_ ** person in this place, you hate Negan.

It all stops when you hear a voice that you recognize as Faith's calling out, " **N** egan, that's enough!" she says in a harsh tone, making your blood go cold.

You have no idea where she was until then, she sure as hell wasn't in the crowd, Arat is though and you're pissed at her cowardliness, she didn't even try yet she claims that she's different from Negan. Like hell she is, you're seeing red and you feel like going on a rampage, you want to watch this place burn to ashes with those people in it.

Oddly enough, Negan actually stops after Faith's intervention and Dwight hesitantly lets go of you. You push yourself out of his grip before he gets the chance to say anything or to even completely let go of you and immediatly run towards Randall, kneeling down next to him, flipping him on his side for him not to choke on his blood as he seems to have a mouth full of it.

" **O** h my God, Randall- Baby boy- I'm so sorry- I - I don't- I didn't-"

" **H** ey-" he spits blood out of his mouth, splashing some on your knees which are not covered due to the fact that your jeans have wide holes at the knees, " **S** 'not your fault, sweet pea." he says, a smile appearing on his bloody face and it makes you want to scream. How can he be so calm and collected when he must be in such an horrible pain.

You never felt so much anger running through your veins as you help him sit up only to hear him wince in discomfort and pain, " **R** andall, I-"

" **A** lright now, let's have a lil' chat, doll." Negan interrupts you, harshly grabbing your left forearm and forcing you up before dragging you out of the big open area as his workers all go back to work as if nothing ever happened and it makes you sick. The fact that Negan is touching you makes you sick, the fact that Dwight played against you makes you sick, the fact that Randall got hurt so fucking badly makes you fucking sick.

" **L** et go of me you fucking psycho!" you protest with a cold voice, trying to break out of his painfully tight grip but he completely ignores you and keeps walking, dragging you along with him.

You get to a staircase and you're well decided not to climb up that damn thing but Negan doesn't seem to give a flying fuck and he literally lifts you up and throws you on his shoulder, your face now way too close to Lucille as the bat is hanging right next to you.

He climbs the stairs, you dangling on his shoulder, until he reaches his office and you start to panic a small bit. You don't want to talk to him, you don't want to be in the same room as him, you don't fucking want him to touch nor even look at you and you can't help but think that he's about to give you one of his useless speeches about how spooky he is and _blah blah blah_.

He finally puts you down before closing the door of his office and the first thing you do is reach for your knife which you quickly pull out of the waistband of your pants, pointing the blade directly at him, anger running through your veins, your chest quickly heaving up and down you pant for breath.

No matter how much he believes that he's got you all figured out, he has no fucking idea just how aggressive you can get when someone hurts the people you care about and love and he knows it. He knows damn well that he's in complete unexplored territory right now and he has no clue of what to expect, it kind of stresses him even though he's not showing it. 

" **D** oll-"

" **F** uck you." you snarl in quite a terrifying cold yet calm voice and it seems to completely caught him off guards, " **Y** ou-" you start, pointing at him with the blade of your knife, " **Y** ou have no right! Who the hell do you think you are?! You can't treat people like that! What the hell is wrong with you?!" you get closer to him, your eyes narrowed, your jaw clenched tight and your knuckles white around the body of your weapon, your head slightly tilting to the side as you're now a few centimeters away from him, " **I** don't give a flying fuck of just how bad and fucking tragic your life has been, Negan, you're nothing because you've decided to be nothing! You're no one, you mean nothing, you don't stand for anything but yourself and that makes you the biggest, most useless piece of shit there is! You're such a fucking hypocrite," you spat out with a cold chuckle,"walking around like you know better than anyone else but really, you're just a coward, too lazy to actually go out there and get your own shit. That's why you terrorize people and bully them. Because you know damn well that you can't survive on your own, Negan. You're the biggest coward there is, being a leader isn't what you make of it, it's not scaring people and forcing them into submission." you get even closer to him, getting right in his face, your noses almost touching, " **A** nd it sure as shit isn't being a misogynist pill of crap who so dearly believes that running an harem is cool. You're not a man, Negan, you're a little boy who thinks it's cool to have hoes laying around. You're fucking pathetic is what you are and meeting you was the worst thing that ever happened to me." you finish as calmly as possible, trying not to shove the blade of your knife into his neck and let him bleed out like the fucking pig that he is.

" **E** nough, [y/n]."

" **O** r what?" you challenge with a quirked up eyebrow, anger blinding you completely.

He doesn't answer you. Instead, he just brings Lucille right in front of you, letting her sharp wire graze your delicate skin, creating small yet deep and painful cuts on your left cheek but you don't make a sound. You don't even wince or flinch a little, you just stand your grounds and let him do whatever it is he thinks he's doing right now.

" **Y** ou look so fucking sexy when you're angry, baby girl, but you're pissin' me the fuck off right now and, believe me, you don't fucking want that."

" **S** 'that a threat?" you ask, yet again in a challenging tone, your brow still raised at him in defiance as you're really quickly running out fresh of patience.

He suddenly, carelessly throws his bat on the other side of the room, making books fall off their shelf, before harshly wrapping his right hand around your throat and pushing against a nearby wall, only the tip of your boots are touching the floor below you as he lifts you up enough to get you to his height so that you don't break eye contact. 

He has you pinned down against the wall, your jaw clenches as the lack of oxygen starts to become a problem for you and your feet start to kicking around, trying to push him off of you while your hands grasp at his forearm, trying to rip his hands off of your throat but you're barely scratching him as you don't have any energy left in you. You're morally and physically exhausted.

" **Y** ou'd fucking love it to be, wouldn't ya, baby girl?" he snarls out, carefully watching you as you're trying to gasp for air and he seems to be fascinated by what he sees, " **Y** eah, you fucking love pushing my buttons, don't you?" he asks through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on your throat, " **Y** ou just fucking love to misbehave and run your lil' mouth, don't you, princess?" he harshly bites down on the exposed skin right below your chin making you whimper in pain, " **Y** eah, you fucking love when daddy gets mad, don't you, love?"

And, it might be in the heat of the moment or just because of the serious lack of oxygen going through your brain but you just can't seem to be able to recall him ever calling you "love" before and it kind of makes your cheeks burn up when the word leaves his filthy mouth though you know damn that this is **not** what should be on your mind right about now.

" **N** -Negan- Please-" you plead barely above a whisper as you start to see dark spots forming in your eyes from the lack of air, your nails digging into the flesh of your forearms. You need to fucking breathe.

" **I** thought we were fucking clear, [y/n]. You're mine, not his." he says through gritted teeth, ignoring your plea, " **W** hy the fuck did you leave in the middle of the goddamn night, uh? And why the fuck did you run off to spend the rest of the night with him, sweetheart?" he asks, clearly angry and still high on adrenaline.

Tears are starting to roll down your face has the lack of oxygen in your lungs is starting to get seriously painful and, oddly enough, he lets go of your throat when he spots your tears, his hands coming up to frame your face to keep you from looking away.

" **M** 'sorry, m'sorry." you whisper, completely out of breath, your throat sore and raw, your lungs burning up.

Sobs start to rip through you as you recall the last time you felt your lungs burning this way and it's all you can think about now. The day your very own mother tried to drown you, that's all there is on your mind at the moment.

He can see that you're hurt, not just physically but mentally too and he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do, he doesn't know how to deal with a pain he fucking created and he's too fucking angry and prideful to apologize so he just walks away, again.

He walks out of his office, locking the door behind him, locking you inside the room and you can feel your claustrophobia running back to you. The room isn't small, at all, but you don't want to be locked in here and that's enough for you to feel like you've been locked away in a coffin.

You sit down on the floor, letting yourself cry because you can't hold it in anymore and wait for your lungs, your heart and your throat to relax. It feels like there's not enough air in this room, it feels small and full of bad things, you hate it.

No matter how much pain you're experiencing at the moment, you can't help but think about Randall. You wonder if he's being taken care of and if he'll be alright, if he's mad at you, but you also find yourself being hurt and upset over the fact that Negan literally almost pushed you to the point of passing out when you never thought that he ever actually would seriously injure you, especially not on purpose.

You're terrified of him, like you used to be terrified of your mother. Then again, you got used to your mother's abusive behavior and became completely numb to it, you didn't really give a damn anymore and you don't want to go back to that, you can't allow to let yourself go back to that. Tis period of your life only made you feel dehumanized and used, you don't want this feeling to come back, you're scared of this feeling.

A few minutes later, the door of the office clicks open and the first thing you do is turn into a ball against the wall behind you, trying to hide away from the potential threat.

" **H** ello?" you hear an oddly soft voice call out before spotting a lady's head peaking out of the door.

_well, hello there floating head... that's odd... is our brain okay? like, did the lack of oxygen really damage it that badly? good god..._

" **H** i?" you answer hesitantly, afraid of who that woman might be but you see her smile and get in before quietly closing the door behind her.

" **H** ey there-" she stops in her tracks when she spots Negan's hand print on your throat, " **O** h no, honey, are you alright? Fucking hell, what a fucking prick, I swear to fucking God." she spits out, her soft voice contrasting with the harsh words.

" **W** h-who are you?" you ask, almost sure that she might just be one of Negan's "wives".

" **Y** ou're a smart one, I'm sure you already know, honey."

" **O** h." you whisper, disappointed that she's one of "them".

" **Y** eah, I know, s'bad but- Well, if that can make my case any better, I don't actually sleep with the guy, like, ever."

" **Y** ou don't?" you ask, a little too surprised which makes her laugh as she sits down on the floor in front of you.

" **G** od, no, sweety. I'm married for fuck's sake, my husband's doing there, working his ass off and I'm stuck here. Hell, no matter what that man says, no matter how many times he said that no means no and you should respect it, he's not the type of man that takes a no without adding consequences to it. The asshole almost killed my man and now I'm fucking stuck here. Lucky enough, I don't need to have any kind of interaction with him or the other dumb bitches he owns. Good God, it's fucking sad to try and have a conversation with those girls."

You let a small laugh and take a good look at her; she has a beautiful, freaking glowing, brown skin, green eyes, she's quite tall and has a few curves and there's some curly brown strands of hair slipping out of the turban she's wearing on top of her head and baby hair framing the side of it.

" **I** 'm [y/n]."

" **O** h, I know who you are, honey." she confesses with a warm smile, " **H** ell, everyone knows who you are, girl. But it's nice to finally meet you in the flesh, my name's Laihla." she introduces herself, her smile never leaving her lips and making dimples show on each side of her mouth.

" **N** ice to meet you b-but- I mean- What are you doing here? D-does he know-"

" **N** o, he doesn't know, sweety. Don't worry, you're safe. I'm here to help you out, I though that's the least I could do, really. I never get the chance to help around here since I'm stuck in this hell hole but when Faith gave me the info, I immediately jumped on the opportunity."

" **F** aith? Wh-"

" **T** hat woman cares about you more than you know, sweety, and I can see why." she states, making you blush.

" **C** -can I ask you a-a question?"

" **O** f course, ask away." she says with a smile, waiting for your question.

" **I** uh- If- If you don't, y'know- What d-do you do around here th-then?"

" **W** ell, he usually doesn't keep girls he can't sleep with around but he decided to keep me and use me as a freaking therapist, I used to be one before all this crap hit the fan."

" **W** -wow... I always thought that Negan's therapist would need a therapist, y'know?" you say with a small smile.

" **D** amn right, I do." she says with a soft laugh, making you smile a little, " **T** hat man has some serious shit on his mind, girl, you don't wanna know. Though-" she pauses and lets out a small laugh, " **H** e talks a lot about you, like, **a lot**. And, to be honest, it's actually kind of sweet. I mean, I never thought this man could care about another living creature but, damn, he clearly cares about you, well-" she takes a long look at your throat and your glossy, puffy eyes, " **H** e clearly doesn't fucking know how to handle that kind of emotion and I'm so sorry that you've ended up all tangled up in this mess, sweety."

" **S** 'okay, I really appreciate you coming in here and helping out, s'really sweet of you and you didn't have to. So, thank you, Laihla."

" **H** ey," she gently puts one of her hands below your chin, spotting the dark bruise Negan's teeth left on the soft skin there, " **f** ucking hell- Look, you don't have to thank me, sweety, what you do need to do is get the hell out of here, y'hear me?" you quickly nod your head to let her know you do, " **G** ood. Alright, listen, Faith is down at the infirmary with Randall-"

" **I** s he alright?" you ask, tears coming back in your eyes.

" **Y** es, sweety, he's alright. A little fucked up but alright, I promise." she reassures you with a warm smile, " **Y** ou go down there and Faith'll take care of you two, alright? You just have to trust her."

" **O** -okay. Yeah, okay." you take a deep breath and try to get up but you're so dizzy that it's hard to do so without wanting to throw up.

" **H** ey, hey, here, I got you." Laihla softly say before quickly closing the gap between the two of you to gently help you up, waiting for you to get your bearings before she lets you stand by yourself though she keeps a tender hand on your back just in case you get dizzy again, " **Y** ou alright, love?"

" **Y** -yes, thank you."

" **N** o problem, princess, t'was a real pleasure to meet you. It's awesome to know that there's still women like you and Faith out there, fighting and standing tall, women that are proud to be independent and strong as all hell, y'all make me all hyper."

You let out a small laugh along with her before hugging her and, even though she was surprised at first, she hugs you back and rubs the hand she has lying on your back up and down in a soothing gesture.

" **Y** ou're just as strong and it'll get better, you'll find a way out. I'm sure of it." you whisper before letting go of her.

" **I** hope so-" she looks a little hurt for a quick second before clapping her hands together and giving you a smile, " **A** nyways, you gotta get going, sweety. Negan's out making sure everyone's working more than they should so you have to go, like, right now."

" **A** lright, just- Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

" **U** h, yeah, actually I uh-" she steps closer to you and reaches out in one of her jeans' pocket, which makes you realize that she's the only "wife" who's not wearing a dress or a skirt, " **H** ere," she hands a small piece of paper out to you with a shaky hand, "c-can you give this to Faith? T-that's for my husband, we- We have this system going, that's how we communicate without Negan knowing, so, i-if you could-"

" **I** won't tell a soul and I swear. I'll get this to Faith, no matter what."

She hugs you tightly, whispering a " **T** hank you so much." before letting go of you and opening the door of the office, signaling for you to come out, " **A** lright, well, I hope I'll never see you again, sweety." she says with a small smile, making you laugh.

" **A** nd I hope that if we do meet again, it'll be outside and that I'll get to meet your husband."

" **W** e can only hope."

" **L** ife sucks if you don't have hope, Laihla." you quietly say, making her smile and you swear you can see her eyes starting to shine.

_bitch, don't you dare cry cos i'll fucking cry too._

You hug her one last time before running off as quietly as possible, pushing the heavy door leading straight to the outside of the compound, making you quite visible out in complete daylight.

" **A** lright, let's do this... I guess." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! So, here's chapter sixteen, I hope you enjoyed it, I know this one is kinda dark but, hey, it can't be all sunshine and rainbows, y'know?
> 
> Anyway, how are you guys doing? I hope you're all doing amazing and that you're happy, eating things you like and watching shows or cartoons that make you feel happy, if not, do it! pretty please.  
> Again, I'm sorry about the long wait on this one, I went through terrible headaches and between the hospitalization and my eyes not cooperating with me, everything was horrible last week, but, hey, I'm slowly getting better and that's all that matters, I just have to take my time with all of this so, thank you so, so, so much for sticking around, you're all amazing and I can't thank you enough, you're all incredible, I seriously have so much love for you ;3;
> 
> But, yeah, as always, I'VE PROOFREAD MY WORK BUT PLEASE FORGIVE ANY TYPOS (which might be all over the freaking place), MY EYES MESS UP SOMETIMES AND I END UP TYPE A WHOLE DIFFERENT FREAKING WORD OR I'LL MESS UP ONE FREAKING LETTER AND EVERYTHING IS HELL RIGHT NOW, SET ME ON FIRE PLEASE.  
> I seriously think that uploading is a bad idea because this might be terribly cringy to read but it's been too long since the last upload and I miss you guys and I miss writing, so, whatever, you can, like, throw knifes at me or whatever, s'okay.  
> Hey! I said knifes so you put that fork away, Cindy! What the fuck, Cindy?!
> 
> ANYWAY! I LOVE YOU GUYS, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE, STAY SAFE, EAT JUNK FOOD, FART ON PEOPLE -no, no, don't do that, never mind- BE NICE TO EACH OTHER -that's better- AND DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU WHAT'S WHAT, YOU TELL THAT WHAT'S WHAT -that totally makes sense, shut up, i love you-
> 
> ALSO, LAIHLA IS MY NEW CHILD SO YOU LEAVE HER ALONE, ALRIGHT? ALRIGHT.
> 
> OH, ALSO -number two- IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, DON'T HESITATE, REALLY, I FREAKING LOVE INTERACTING WITH YOU, ANGELS!


	17. Shared Misery //

** FLASHBACK // FOURTEEN y/o OFC // THREE WEEKS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK //**

" **D** aryl! Merle! That's enough, you freaking idiots!" you shout out, desperately trying to tear the two brothers apart.

_what kind of impulsive idiots start a fight in the middle of a sidewalk which happens to be right in front of a police station... besides the dixons..._

" **T** hat's enough! Both of you!" you finally snap, completely shoving Merle off of his younger brother, making him fall flat on his ass on the concrete sidewalk, " **Y** ou two always pull that crap, goddamn it! I'm sick of it! Get your asses in the car, we're going home!"

It's always the same damn thing, you're so used to it by now, it's almost ridiculous.

Merle gets arrested for driving drunk or under the influence of heavy drugs, or sometimes for fighting or randomly insulting people, he calls Daryl to come and bail him out, you end up paying for Merle's stupidity and the two brothers end up jumping at each others' throats because; Daryl is done with his big brother's reckless attitude and Merle is angry because his little brother doesn't approve of his reckless attitude.

And then, well, there's you; right in the middle of it all. You're always the one breaking the fight just for them to laugh it off afterwards, you fucking hate those two sometimes.

The way back to the parking lot is uncomfortably quiet, you're upset and, to be perfectly honest, you're also really hurt.

You, once again, took a hit that was destined to one of the brothers right in the stomach and it hurts like a bitch. You don't know who's damn elbow hit you so hard and you don't care, at all. You don't want any of the two brothers to feel any more guilt than they need to feel, shit happens and that's that but this very specific shit wouldn't have happened if those two idiots didn't start to fight over a fucking fart.

"[ **Y** /n]-" Merle starts but you quickly cut him off, swallowing tears of pain back, trying your hardest not to cry in front of them.

" **J** ust- Get in the car, you pricks." you say with a small laugh before getting in front of the wheel, waiting for the brothers to climb into the car, Daryl riding shotgun and Merle laying in the back, grunting and holding his head as the alcohol he's consumed is starting to catch up to him with a vengeance.

You start the car and immediately get on the road, the only thing on your mind being going back to bed as soon as possible, because, yes, you were actually sleeping like a baby before you heard the front door of Daryl's house opening just to catch him sneaking out.

He said that he didn't want to wake you up and that he didn't want you to have to deal with this shit again but you completely ignored him, grabbed one of his sweatshirt, put on a pair of black Converse and grabbed the keys of Merle's car, mumbling under your breath as you dragged Daryl along with you to the car and headed to the police station of the small town.

You're not supposed to drive, you're too young to have a freaking licence and you're pretty damn sure that the car you're driving is a stolen one but you can't really bring yourself to give a damn at the moment. Daryl is too banged up to drive and Merle is barely starting to sober up.

" **S** o, what were you in this shithole for this time, Dixon?" Daryl asks as calmly as possible but you know that they'll be at each others' throats again in a few seconds.

" **S** ome asshole at the bar pissed me off-"

" **J** esus fuckin' Christ, Merle. You need to grow the hell up, seriously." Daryl snaps, clearly annoyed by his brother's control issues.

_aaand, there it fucking is..._

" **A** re you fucking kidding me?! He-"

" **I** said enough! Both of you just shut up for one God damn minute! I'm so sick of this crap, you two are brothers for fuck's sake! Maybe you should think about that for one God damn time in your life! Now shut up, both of you." you snap before turning the radio on, trying to tune the two brothers out. Yyou're angry, tired, hurt and upset and all you want is to go back to bury yourself underneath the four blankets you sleep under every night and fall into a deep coma for the rest of your remaining days.

The rest of the ride is completely silent except for the radio and for Merle snoring away on the backseats of the car.

" **I** -" Daryl starts, pausing just to slightly turn the volume of the radio down, " **I** didn't mean to hurt you, [y/n]. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you and-"

" **S** 'okay, Daryl." you softly say, looking at him and giving him a small smile before putting your attention back on the road, " **I** know it was an accident. Don't worry about it, we're cool."

" **I** 'm not worried about that, m'worried about you." he admits, pausing to look at you and quickly looking out of the passenger's side window, feeling awkward about displaying his feelings, " **I** just, y'know, care about you an' all. I don't want you to get hurt, 'specially 'cause of me or Merle, he doesn't want that either. Hell, he cares about you too, believe it or not."

" **I** know, Daryl- I care about you two as well." you pause, hesitantly taking his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze, both of your arms twitching at the contact, the two of you being really insecure about that kind of things, " **A** nd, y'know, I really believe that, as long as we have each other-  we'll be alright."

" **D** amn straight. We ride together, we die together." Merle says from the back, making the two of you jump slightly in your seats.

" **H** ow drunk are you, Merle?" you ask quietly.

" **M** 'not, like, at all. Fucking hell, baby brother, I actually felt every single punches you gave me, ya dick."

" **S** erves y'right, asshole." Daryl says with a small smirk, making his big brother chuckle.

" **Y** ou're both assholes, let's just leave it at that." you put in your two cents, making the boys smile and chuckle in sync which makes a small smile appear on your lips.

You all relax a little and the ride back home is actually quite nice and calm. You like driving at night, you like the cool air and the pretty lights of the small town, something about it just appeases you for some reason.

" **Y** 'heard about that new crazy fever everyone's 'been talking about?" Daryl asks, pulling a cigarette out of his leather jacket as an ambulance passes your car, sirens blaring.

" **Y** eah, it's all over the news, s'kinda hard to ignore it." you pause to take the lit cigarette Daryl is handing to you and take a drag out of it before handing it back to him," **T** hanks." you quietly say, letting the smoke pour out of your mouth and flow out the open window to your left, " **Y** 'think it's, like, bad?"

" **T** he fever?" he asks, unsure if that's what you're referring to, and you give him a small "Mmhm" in return, " **D** amned if I know but, I mean, how bad can a fuckin' cold get, ya know?"

" **S** ome people don't have what it takes to fight off viruses, Daryl." you say, sadness showing through your voice and he understands that Luna is on your mind at this exact moment, " **S** orry, I- I didn't mean to make things awkward."

" **A** in't shit awkward but Merle's face right now, he looks like shit." he says with a small chuckle, looking at the back of the car to look at his sleeping brother.

" **S** hush, that's mean." you scold him though there's a smile on your face.

" **T** hat's how we show love between Dixons."

" **Y** eah, well, that sucks."

You hear him whisper a soft "yeah" but you don't mention it, knowing that he didn't mean for you to hear it and not wanting to make him uncomfortable. You know that he has a hard time with affection and emotions so you never push him to cross lines that you know he's not ready nor willing to cross just yet. You just let things be, that's how it works with the three of you, always.

The rest of the ride is quiet, you and Daryl sharing a cigarette and making chit-chat, feeling like you both already talked too much about personal things for tonight and even tomorrow. Merle is still snoozing away in the backseats much to Daryl's entertainment and you end up counting all the ambulances you see, sirens blaring, on the road on your way back. You've counted ten by the time you park in front of the Dixons' house.

" **Y** ou comin'?" Daryl asks, making you snap out of your thoughts.

" **U** h, yeah- Yeah, be right there. Y'need help with him?" you ask, looking at Merle which is now slowing emerging from his sleep in the back of the car.

" **N** ah, I got him." he says as he's about to close the door of the passenger side he was sitting on but pauses to look at you, " **H** ey, don't stay out here too long, yeah? S'cold as balls, don't want you to catch whatever shit's goin' around."

" **S** ure." you answer above a whisper, undoing your seat-belt and letting yourself sink into your seat in front of the wheel, waiting to hear the front door of the Dixons' house click shut before you allow yourself to let a deep sigh out.

Your hands are shaking, your legs are nervously twitching and you're starting to bath in your own sweat as your body begs for you to give it its dose of alcohol or drug but you ignore and know you'll have to push through it like you've been doing for months now, doing your best to keep yourself from relapsing again.

You tried to get sober after your mother died but it failed, there was too much things going on in your life for you to be able to last on the long term but, when Luna died, you tried again, for her, and now you're almost a year clean but it gets so hard at time, it just doesn't feel like any of it is worth it when you're in these moments of pure need and craving. 

_yeah, living with merle doesn't truly help either, girl..._

Merle is heavily into drugs and alcohol but he never tries to put you back into it, he actually stopped using after the night he had to rush you to the hospital after you almost overdosed. He was right there when you woke up and, though you were ready for him to give you a earful, he just rushed to you, held you tight and even cried a little before promising you that he was gonna help you, that he never wanted you near that shit ever again, that he'll go through thick and thin to get you there before telling you that he loved you way too fucking much to let you go down that path without a hand to hold.

Though he still drinks like a freaking fish, Merle proves to be of great help at times. He really tries, you know that he doesn't want you to go into another relapse circle and you're thankful for his and Daryl's support because you know that, if not for them, you would have fallen right back into it all head first.

_speaking of the devil..._

" **M** erle's asleep." Daryl says, snapping you out of your thoughts, whilst opening the door of the passenger side.

" **G** ood, that's good..."

" **W** hat's on your mind?" he asks, sitting on the seat next to you leaving the door of the car open.

" **N** othin', just- m'having a lil' episode, s'all." you say with an heavy sigh, exhausted.

" **S** hit-" he breathes out, looking down at your shaking hands, " **A** nythin' I can do to help out?"

" **N** ah, s'okay. Thanks though." you turn on your seat to face him and give him a small smile, letting your head fall heavily on it right side against your seat, " **W** hat the hell is going on, Daryl?"

" **W** hat d'you mean, [y/n]?"

" **S** 'just- I got a weird feeling about this whole-" you let out a sigh, feeling like you're being paranoid right now, " **M** eh, forget it, I think I just need some rest, y'know? S'been- S'been a tough night."

" **Y** eah, no shit." he says with a small chuckle before gently tapping your shoulder, " **C** 'mon, let's get our asses back inside, s'freezing out here"

You let out a small giggle before stepping out of the car, slamming the door shut and throwing the keys to Daryl, going inside the house before directly walking towards your bedroom, hoping to be able to go back to sleep after all this ruckus and especially now that your body is fully awake and having withdraws.

" **H** ey, sweetheart?" Daryl calls out and you turn on your heels to look at him, raising your eyebrows and nodding to let him know he's got your attention, " **A** in't you gonna finish the night in my bed?" he asks with a small frown, used to having you sneaking into his room in the middle of the night to sleep the rest of it away with him.

" **O** h, I uh-" you look down at your shaking hands and show them to him with a dry laugh, " **I** think it's best if I stay on my own tonight, Dee."

" **Y** ou sure you're gonna be okay? 'Cause I don't mind stayin' awake with you if-"

" **D** aryl," you cut him off, making his eyebrows shoot up, "I'll be fine, don't worry. Just- You know, I get sick sometimes when I... Get like this." you whisper, feeling ashamed of the situation you're in, " **N** othing I can't handle though." you quickly follow up with a smile, " **P** romise I'll come to you if something's wrong."

" **A** lright... Don't hesitate if you change your mind, though. You know where I stay." he says with a small smile, " **G** 'night, [y/n]."

" **N** ight, Dixon."

You say with a smile before the two of you close the door of your respective rooms shut but, the second you close yours, your smile fades away and you run into the small bathroom joined to your room, quickly dropping to your knees and messily pushing your hair back before puking your guts out in the toilet.

" **O** h, for fuck's sake." you whisper, whipping your mouth with the back of your right hand before shakily getting back up and directly going over to the sink to wash your teeth and your mouth, the taste of your puke not really being something you're into.

_no offense but, you were way healthier when you were hammered and high twenty-four-seven..._

" **S** hut up." you bitterly spit out before literally spitting toothpaste out of your mouth and rinsing it all down with mouthwash.

You clean the sink, flush the toilet and carefully close the door of the bathroom before taking your jeans off, slipping out of your bra without taking Daryl's old sweatshirt off and kick your pair of Converse and socks off before finally jumping into your bed, directly crawling beneath your pile of thick, warm blankets, a deep sigh making it's way past your lips when your head finally hits your pillow, ready to resume your night of sleep.

" **G** ood night, Luna. Night, dad." you whisper before falling into a deep, well deserved, sleep.

 

** 7:00 AM //**

You're woken up by Daryl slamming the door of your room open and jumping in bed with you.

" **M** orning!" he exclaims, his voice is too chipper for your liking.

" **U** gh, freaking hell, why??" you grumpily mumble in your pillow.

" **I** got a surprise for ya and I don't wanna wait 'til your birthday to give it to ya."

" **D** aryl, baby, no offense, but, I'm gonna shove a broom up your ass if you didn't get me a puppy or a pony, just so y'know."

" **I** got some' better, wait here."

" **H** mm, sounds like a great plan."

You groan into your pillow as Daryl leaves the bed and runs off to God knows where. You slowly sit down on your mattress, yawning and stretching out, letting an high-pitched squeal out in the process before rubbing your eyes in a failed attempt to wake yourself up a little bit more.

" **D** aryyyyyl, why're you taking so long??? You better be baking me a cake or something right now."

" **S** 'even better, just wait." he shouts as he makes his way back to your room, entering it with a smile on his face, a flat, really large box in his hands, " **H** ere ya go, hope you like it." he says almost shyly as he sits down on the bed right in front of you, handing you the big box.

" **T** -thank you, Daryl. I-I'm sure I will, don't worry." you say, your timidity crushing you of all the sudden.

You carefully unwrap the box, kinda feeling bad about tearing it apart since you know that Daryl must have spent a frustrating amount of time doing it, a small smile appearing on your lips as you start to imagine Daryl covered in glue and wrapping paper, his face red in frustration and anger.

You hear Daryl let a shaky breath out when you lift the lead of the box up, happy giggles pouring out of your mouth when you spot an incredibly beautiful wooden bow carefully laying in it.

" **D** aryl- It's so pretty." you whisper before taking the bow in your hands, carefully looking at it, furrowing your brows when you spot words carved into the wood.

They read; " ** _I'll always be there for you, even when I'm not, I promise_ \- Daryl** " with an adorable little skull drawn right next to the "L" and you spot other random doodles carved into the bow, one of them being a minimalist drawing of Harley Quinn, it's just her hat and her mask, it's adorable.

You carefully put the weapon aside and lunch into Daryl's arms, making him flinch violently but he pushes his difficulties aside to hug you right back, " **Y** ou like it?" he asks in a whisper, clearly afraid that you don't.

" **A** re you serious? I love it, I wanna be buried with it." you carefully break the hug to look at him, " **I** t's the most beautiful gift I've ever received, Daryl. Thank you, so, so much. I love you so freaking much."

You see him frown at your words, panic washing over him. He's not used to saying those words and he has a really hard time doing so even if he truly does love you a whole bunch, you understand it because you're the same, he's your only exception. Daryl said those three words to you before, on several occasions, actually, but it's a little more complicated for him to let them out when the context is so serious and he can't laugh about something else right after to appease his nerves.

" **I** know, s'okay, don't worry." you reassure him and you can clearly see him relax.

" **M** 'sorry."

" **S** hut up." you brush off with a small laugh, before jumping out of your bed, " **N** ow! Let's go test this bad boy out, yeah?"

" **H** ell yeah, let's." he says, excited at the idea of getting his crossbow out to train with you but, just as he's about to walk out of your bedroom, he stops to look at you, " **Y** 'know I mean every single words, right?"

" **O** f course I do, Daryl. You don't ever need to worry about me knowing that you care, I know you do."

" **A** lright... Be waiting for ya at the front door, 'kay?"

" **B** e right there." you say with a small smile before walking inside your bathroom to get ready.

You get ready real quick before running back into your bedroom to grab the bow and you can't help but admire it some more, it truly is the most beautiful thing someone's ever done for you, it's a miracle that you didn't break into tears right in front of Daryl.

What you don't realize is that, soon enough, this bow'll be one of only things you'll have left of your best friend.

 

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**PRESENT TIME // 2:00 PM //**

Your hands are shaking out of control and your fingers are clumsily tracing the drawings carved into your bow, your feet dangling freely out of an abandoned car that you've found earlier on today as you're sitting sideways on the passenger's side, your eyes filled with tears, your head, laying heavily sideways against the headrest of your sit, is filled with guilt and shame but your heart's never been so calm and beating so softly.

You keep looking over your shoulder, expecting Negan to appear right behind you, Lucille in his hand.

_stop, please._

You're out. You ran off. You couldn't bring yourself to open the door of the infirmary back at the Sanctuary, you couldn't prepare yourself to see just how much damage Negan had inflicted to your Chicago boy, you've cowered away from it.

You've told Faith that you'll sneak out on your own to "make it less obvious" but, really, deep down, you know that it's also because you got scared to face Randall. You hate that you're the cause of his wounds, hell, you weren't the one beating him up but it sure as shit felt like it to you and you're pretty damn sure that that's also the way Randall saw the whole thing.

Now, you're waiting for both him and Faith and, you have to admit that you're torn being feeling excited, happy, relieved and terrified beyond recognition at the idea of reuniting with your friends, especially Randall, after what happened, after what you've put them through.

Part of you just wants to up and leave, go back to your old ways, your old, much simpler life, whilst the other part is determined to stay right here and wait for your two friends to arrive, to be right here for Randall, to fix him up and start something new, something healthy, something real and as painless as possible. That's all you need, that's all you crave.

There's at least five dead bodies pilled up right next to your car, five walkers that you've put down, and you're still on the look out for any more of them but it seems to be pretty calm out here, plus, you're not being noisy so it's quite quiet at the moment. You can hear groans in the area but they're away from you so you don't bother with them, no need to go and poke the bear... the flesh hungry and blood thirsty dead bear.

You're parked in the small town that Faith is supposed to be doing her supply run into today, which, you know, she most likely will going on even given the situation. Hell, she made it clear that she was not staying out here with you, not because she doesn't want to but because she called you on your talkie to let you know that Negan saw that you broke out of his office and he was pissed so she played dumb and told him that she didn't know where the hell you went but she told him that she'll "look for you" while she'll be out on her routine run which means that, if she doesn't want to get into some serious shit with Negan, she'll have to go back after dropping Randall off or he'll understand what went down and things might, and will, get ugly - **again** -.

It terrified you when she called you on your radio to tell you that he knew that you were gone, it fucking petrified you and now, you feel like he's about to pop out of nowhere at any given second. You're terrified even though Faith made it clear that she handled the situation and, yes, you do trust her with your life but the burn that Negan's hand left on your throat -because, yes, the mark on your throat turned into a mean looking burn- and the fact that your lungs are still burning up only remind you of just how far things went, how far you've let things go, how far **he** took this whole situation and just how dangerous this man truly can be, **even to you**.

The man that gave you hell, marked you as his instantly without even thinking about what the hell the aftermath of that might have been for you, dragged you around like a toy, took you for granted when he didn't even try to have a proper conversation with you, the man you've spend the last several weeks running away from but somehow always ended up running back to just to pay a ridiculously high price for it **every single** damn **time** , the man that locked you away into a small, dark cell after you opened up to him and fucking told him about your abusive mom, **this fucking man**... is the same fucking man that had to go as far as depriving you of oxygen until you were ready to pass out for you to realize that he's no good, not to mention that Randall took a blow that he shouldn't have ever taken and it's all because of you.

It feels like you don't even know who you are anymore, everything feels so wrong. You hate that, for every cons that you find when it comes to him, your mind immediately comes up with a pro.

_but... you hate him... right? i mean... how could you not... y'know?... right?_

You let out a shaky sigh, quickly wiping the single tear that dared to escape from your eye before smiling weakly, eyeing the words your friend carved into the bow he made for you, " **D** amn it, Dixon... Where the hell are you? I miss you... Damn, I miss Merle and his stupid face, too."

You get lost in the past for a quick second before hearing a vehicle coming your way. You decide to get out of the old car that you're in and stay crouched on the side so that you're out of sight but you can clearly see the road and what's going there.

Your shoulders drop and a relieved breath that you didn't even know you were holding makes its way past your parted lips when you recognize Faith's Jeep and actually see her stop in the middle of the road before getting out of the vehicle, softly calling your name and you decide to get out of hiding only for her to quickly aim her gun at you.

" **F** ucking hell! You scared the crap out of me, [y/n]. Jesus! What the hell, don't ever do that again." she exclaims, tucking her gun back into the waistband of her pants before opening her arms and stepping towards you only for you to run into her embrace, hiding your face into the crook of her neck, sobs rocking your body as you finally let your fear consume you, " **H** ey, shh, it's okay, baby." she coos, gently rocking you left and right, kissing the top of your head before pushing the bridge of her nose against your forehead, letting you calm down in her arms.

You slowly get out of her embrace only to see Randall standing right next to her, looking at you and your head immediately drops, afraid to see his face, afraid to see just how much damage you've caused.

Everything is silent, you can actually hear birds chirping until Randall's huge arms snake around your much smaller frame, making your ears buzz, loud sobs getting out of your mouth without your permission the second he gets close enough for his smell to surround you. You hide your face against his chest as he lifts you up and he hides his on the side of your neck, his warm tears hitting your skin only feeding your guilt and sadness.

" **W** hat the hell did he do to you, baby?" he asks against your skin with a sob and your grip on him gets tighter, both your hands grabbing the back of his neck to keep him as close as possible.

" **N** o-not nearly-nearly enough." you sob out, shaking in his arms as you break under all the pressure you've been put under these past few weeks.

Randall immediately pulls away from you before firmly grabbing your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look straight at him. He doesn't say a word, he doesn't need to; his body speaks for him.

His brows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched, his shoulders are clearly tensed and his teary eyes are piercing holes into yours but you can't look away, no matter how hard you try and want to.

" **Y** 'think this is your fucking fault, uh?" he asks, his voice even more scruffy than it normally is, " **Y** 'really believe that I'm holding a grudge, don't ya." he states, clearly not looking for an answer since he already knows all about it anyway, " **H** e told me-" he pauses and gets closer to you, his mouth right next to your right ear to keep Faith from hearing what he's about to tell you, " **H** e told me that he had you squirming beneath him the night before and I lost my shit. I fucking punched him, baby. That's why I got my ass beat up, not 'cause of you, we clear?" he asks, pulling away from your ear only to push his forehead against yours to closely look at you as you softly nod your head, silently agreeing to his words, " **W** hat d'he do to you, baby? What the hell happened, uh? Why the fuck is there a burned-in hand print on your throat and why the hell are there cuts on your cheek?" he asks as a single tear rolls down his cheek but you catch it with your thumb before it can go any further down his face.

_negan fucking told him about what he did to you the night before? what the fuck?... what did he even fucking do to you, actually?_

" **L** -Lucille-"

" **E** xcuse me?" Faith interrupts, clearly angered by that specific word coming out of your mouth, " **S** weetheart, did he fucking raise that stupid fucking bat on you?" she asks, clearly panicked, worried and angered.

" **N** -no. He-he just-just- Y-you know- Just gra-graced my chee-cheek with the-the wire and he-he- Well, he cho-choked me."

She's about to say something when her talkie starts to buzz, indicating her that someone is trying to join her. She picks it up, silently asking you and Randall to stay really quiet, " **W** hat's up?" she casually asks, impressing you with her easiness as she was clearly fuming only a second ago.

" **A** nything? Or am I gonna have to fucking go get her the fuck back home by my goddamn self, Faith?" you hear Negan's voice bark through the talkie-walkie, panic rushing into your veins again but Randall is quick to take you into his arms to calm you down.

" **A** re you fucking kidding me right now, Negan? I literally just parked for fuck's sake! I fucking told you that I'll look for her and I fucking will."

" **W** hatever, just do your fucking job and don't fucking forget who the fuck you work for, Fa-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence as Faith spits a mean " **F** uck you, Negan." at him before dropping the radio on the concrete beneath her, anger running through her veins.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose before kicking the radio away from her, all the noises attracting walkers around the area, " **F** ucking asshole." she spits bitterly.

" **W** -why go back?" you shyly ask, getting out of Randall's arms, Faith turning her attention to you, confused by your question, " **W** hy go back there, Faith? You-you could stay here, with us, we-we'd take care of each other, we would."

" **H** oney, I already explained it to you, I-" she gives you a sad smile, "Listen, it's okay, alright? Believe me, I need to be back at the Sanctuary or Negan'll get a grip on you two way too quickly and I want to give you two time to actually put some real distance between you, him and his fucking dogs." she grabs your face and kisses the tip of your nose, " **H** e ain't shit to me, sweetheart. Hell, you better believe that I'm not about to let a goddamn man tell me what the fuck do to and you shouldn't either." she looks at Randall then back at you before flashing you the same sad smile, " **Y** ou two should go before I change my mind though." she finishes with a smile on her face but tears in her deep brown eyes, quickly wiping away the single one rolling down her cheek.

It breaks your heart to see actual tears in her eyes, you've never seen her cry before and, now that you have, you can officially say that; _you fucking hate it_.

" **H** ere." you start, heading to the car you drove here in before running back to Faith and handing her a radio and a small piece of paper where you've wrote the channel that your radio is on, " **F** ound those while I was waiting for you guys, it has some seriously badass range too so, I t-took it... I hope that's okay with you, Faith? Since, y'know, you're s-supposed to bring ev-everything back to him and-"

" **H** e can't be pissed about what he doesn't even know exists, honey." she says with a smile, taking the radio from you and putting the piece of paper into her jeans before winking at you, making you smile, " **D** amn it, I'm gonna miss you, princess." she says in a whisper, clearly trying not to cry, before taking you into her arms and you softly kiss her cheek.

" **P** lease- Don't go, please?" you cry into her neck, clearly not willing to just let go of her.

You thought that giving her that damn radio, knowing that she'll have it with her, would actually reassure you, help you let go, but it didn't, not at all. It's hard and it hurts so bad, it almost makes you regret ever meeting her. She softly calls Randall over and you feel them hugging even though you're still into Faith arms, firmly holding on to her until Randall's hands gently pull you away from her making you sob out loud as you feel your body losing touch with hers.

" **W** a-wait, please-"

" **H** oney, it's okay." she gives you a small, teary smile, seeing you cry and struggle for her making her heart drop in her chest, "It's okay, pretty girl." she whispers to you as Randall reassuringly keeps you against his chest.

" **N** o! No, it's not okay, Faith." you snap, wanting nothing but for her to come along and start over with you like she deserves to.

" **Y** es, it fucking is, [y/n], and I'm not arguing with you! Just get in the fucking car and leave, okay?" she sharply orders, trying to sound angry but there's tears rolling down her face and you can see that she's pretty much breaking right now, " **P** -please, sweetheart, just- Just go, please. We'll see each other again, I promise, we can- How about that," she takes a deep breathe to steady her voice, "I'll radio you every time that I'm out all by myself and we'll hang out, yeah?"

" **Y** -you mean it?"

" **O** f course, I do, [y/n]." she says with a smile before walking back to you and kissing your forehead, " **I** don't want you to think that this is me abandoning you, okay, baby? 'Cause it isn't. This is me doing what's right for the people that I care about, no matter how much it fucking hurts, 'cause that's what you do when you love someone, alright? You do whatever it takes to keep them safe, no matter how much it costs you. But this isn't me saying goodbye, [y/n]. We _will_ see each other again, as often as possible, that's what I want, how about you?"

" **O** -okay, yes." you look at her, getting out of Randall's arms just to hug her tightly one last time, " **T** hank you, for everything. I love you."

" **T** hanks to you too, [y/n]. I love you, take care of yourself for me, yeah?"

" **P** romise. You too, for me."

" **P** romise." she says before kissing your temple and quickly hugging Randall, saying goodbye to him as well before bringing her attention back to her Jeep, trying not to break down as both you and the tattooed man get inside the car you've found and drive away from your rendez-vous point.

She brings her attention to the radio that you've handed to her, smiling down at it, " **T** his fucking sucks." she whispers, carefully putting the walkie in the glove-box of her car before getting down to business with her supply run.

 

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**5:15 PM // **

You and Randall have been driving for three hours straight, switching turns behind the wheel every hour to get some rest and to actually take the time to explore whatever area you stopped in. 

Things are actually going pretty good, you're really low on fuel but the little supply runs you've been doing at every stop almost filled the trunk of your vehicle with supplies and the fact that you've done that all by yourself really makes you proud. You get out on your own since you literally threatened Randall to break both of his legs if he doesn't stay put and wait for you in the car.

You feel horrible about his wounds. They're really bad, his face is all bloody and bruised, his bottom lip is busted and his left brow is now decorated with a sharp, deep cut at the tail, right on his brow bone, but the real damages are on his body. There's some terrifying looking bruises on his ribcage and all over his stomach, even his tattoos aren't able to hide the bruised skin and you're afraid that he might have a broken rib or four and, good God, you wouldn't wish that upon your worst enemy, that shit hurts like hell, especially nowadays, when you don't have a freaking surgeon to actually operate on you like they're supposed to when you have a freaking broken bone.

There's some really crappy country music C.D playing softly in the car since all there is on the radio is a broadcasts for emergency telling you that everything is under control and that you must get to the Atlanta safe zone and _blah blah blah_. You and Randall almost went mental when you heard that robotic sounding lady talking on repeat on every single damn stations.

" **T** alk to me, [y/n], please?" Randall pleads whilst looking at you from the passenger seat.

" **W** hat d'you want me to say, Randall? Uh? I fucked up, alright? I always do, I fuck up and then the people I care about get hurt because of my stupidity, that's why I always stay by myself 'cause that-" you say, pointing at his bruised face, " **T** hat's what I fucking do, that's what happens!" you snap and the car literally breaks down on you just as you finish your sentence, making you groan in frustration, " **F** uck's sake!"

"[ **Y** /n]." Randall softly says, trying to get your attention but you keep on banging your head against the wheel, "[ **Y** /n]!" he tries again, his voice raised, and he actually catches your attention this time around, " **B** aby, stop it-" he starts, looking at you, and he lets out a soft sigh when he spots tears running down your face.

" **I** 'm sorry, Randall. I'm sorry, I really am." you softly whisper, letting your head fall on its left side against the wheel so that you're now directly looking at Randall, " **E** verything is just so- Messed up, it's all broken and it hurts so bad 'cause I rea-really tried and n-now it's all- it's all gone and it's-it's all my fault. I did this do you. S'my fault. I can't st-stand myself anymore, I hate who I've become and I hate what I feel, I hate-"

" **N** egan." Randall cuts you off, carefully taking your shaking right hand into his, " **Y** ou hate Negan, sweet pea. All that anger you feel? S'normal and it's fucking healthy too, but only if you let yourself feel it, alright? Your emotions? They ain't here to burden you, [y/n], they're here to be let you know that someone's crossed a line and disrespected your boundaries and they need to be heard and acknowledged. Once you do, they'll go the fuck away, 'cause that's all they want, for you to acknowledge them. And, I swear to God, when you"ll finally get there, you'll see that they're not as scary as people make them out to be, baby."

" **S** 'not all a-about Ne-Negan, it's-" you look at him, silently asking him if you should actually go ahead and speak about what hurts you so badly and he squeezes your hand in return, " **I** \- We never-" you let out an heavy sigh, forcing a smile as a tear rolls down your face right into the leather covering the wheel of the car, " **I** can't stop- I can't stop thinking about what happened with-with Jason, it just never l-leaves my mind, Randall."

" **N** o shit, you do, sweet pea." he says quickly after, clearly not surprised, " **N** o one ever took the goddamn time to talk to you about it. Hell, when you did get some time off to heal from that shit, uh? Connor- Connor wanted to talk to you about it, he was angry, he knew something was up but we weren't sure... Sweet pea, what the hell did this piece of shit did to you?"

" **T** ha-that's the thing, Randall, I don't want to-to talk a-about it, I don't f-feel ready ye-yet but it hurts to k-keep it in, too."

" **W** ell, baby, you know that I'll never force anything on you so, take your time with it but, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on? Just know that I'm right here and I'm not here to judge you, [y/n], I promise." you shyly bring the hand he's holding yours in to your mouth and leave a soft kiss on Randall's bloody knuckles, making him smile at the softness behind the gesture, " **W** e're gonna fine, sweet pea. I know we will."

famous last words...

" **W** e can only hope, right?" you quietly answer, gently dropping his hands and slipping yours out of his hold before opening the door of the car and getting out, " **W** ait here, I'm gonna see if I can find any fuel in those cars." you say, nodding your head towards the abandoned cars lingering on the quiet road, " **P** lus, it's your turn to take the wheel, Chicago boy, don't think that you can play me."

" **B** ut, I'm wooooounded." he whines playfully, silently hoping that you won't actually take his words as a way to guilt trip you.

" **P** oor thing." you sarcastically coo before grabbing your bow laying in the backseats of the car and heading towards old, rusty cars, leaving Randall to laugh at your sarcasm.

 

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 **6:33** **PM** **//**

One last body falls limp on the floor and you drag it outside with the four others, pilling them on top of each other to burn them later on, Randall watching your every move as he also keeps an eye out for any more walkers but you two seem to be in the clear for now.

" **Y** ou should've let me help, [y/n]." he argues, eyes scanning your every move.

" **M** 'fine, Chicago boy. If you wanna help so bad then, help me bring our supplies inside the house, big boy." you teasingly say, playfully pinching his right cheek as you walk passed him to get to the car parked right in front of the big farm house you two found.

" **Y** ou're the worst, friends are supposed to kill things together, not move shit around, s'boring."

" **F** riends are supposed to help other friends move and no, Randall, friends are not supposed to kill together, what the hell? That's messed up." you say as you carry three huge boxes filled with supplies inside the house, not even able to see where the hell you're going since the boxes are pilled on top of each other and, well, you're not that freaking tall much to your dismay.

" **N** eed help there, girl?" Randall teases as he gets passed you, carrying the four other boxes that were left in the car inside.

" **I** 'll trip you, don't try me." you say with a laugh as you both start to race to the house with boxes in your arms.

" **Y** 'know, we could just get inside one after the other, sweet pea, no one has to get hurt."

" **P** ff, yeah, right. There can only be one, Chicago boy." you say as you quickly squeeze past him and inside the house, carefully dropping the boxes on the floor before smiling cockily at him, proud of yourself for beating him after he teased you, " **N** eed help there, boy?" you tease as he finally gets inside and closes the front door with his feet before dropping the boxes on the floor and actually clapping softly, making you bow playfully in front of him.

" **Y** ou kicked my ass, I'll take it. Bravo, you lil' shit."

" **T** hank you, papa bear."

" **H** ey, I thought we agreed on never using that name... Hell, now that you actually say it out of nowhere like that, you're right, it does sound like the name of a really pissed off inmate."

" **R** ight?!" you exclaim with a small giggle, making Randall chuckle, " **A** lright, now what?" you shyly ask, looking around the huge house you two just found.

" **W** ell... I guess we can go and pick a bedroom to sleep and get settled in, right? Damn," he starts, scratching his neck, "this is so fucking weird." he whispers, looking around him with a smile on his face.

" **A** -A good weird or-"

" **O** h, no, definitely an amazing weird... Man, it just feels so fucking right, y'know?" he says, looking at you, still wearing a big smile.

" **Y** eah. Yeah, it does."

You two stay silent for what feels like hours but really only a few seconds have passed by when you drop your head, your cheeks a bright red as you're not used nor comfortable with eye contact, " **I** uh- Before we do that though, le-let me fix you up, alright?"

" **S** ure, sweet pea."

You fetch medical supplies out of one of the boxes before joining Randall on the enormous couch sitting in the middle of the living room, right in front of a huge chimney. You sit down next to him, you're both siting sideways on the comfortable furniture, Randall has his right leg folded up on the couch and his left one down, his left feet firmly planted on the wooden planks covering the floor as you're sitting leg-crossed, the two of you facing each other.

" **A** lright, I'm gonna clean up your face and disinfect your wounds... It might hurt like a bitch though, since, you know, these are fresh, open wounds... Just so you know."

" **I** think I'll live." he says with a small smile, kissing your forehead before letting you do your thing.

You gently wash away the blood on his face and carefully clean up his wounds with pure alcohol, making him wince a couple of times but he always reassures you that he's okay and, finally, you stitch up the cut on his brow bone and take one last look at his lip, making sure that he doesn't need any stitches there as well but the lip seems to have stopped bleeding and is now slowly bruising, you're just happy that it didn't tear or anything too bad.

" **H** ere ya go." you exclaim, putting the dirty, used, sterile cloths that you've used to clean his face with away before sitting back right in front of him, " **A** ll cleaned up." you whisper with a smile, happy to see his face without blood on it even though there still is bruises and wounds cutting through the his skin.

" **T** hanks, sweet pea. Now let me take care of you, alright? You go get settled and whatnot while I'll secure the windows and all the rest, yeah? Just, let me do this one thing, baby, you've done everything today. Now, s'time for you to rest."

" **T** hank you, Randall." you softly lunch forward to hug him and he carefully catches you before laying down on the couch so you're now laying on top of him, the two of you giggling like kids, " **R** andall, I'm gonna hurt you. Let me go."

" **H** ow the hell are you going to hurt me, exactly, sweet pea?" he asks with a frown.

" **I** 'm freaking crushing you, you idiot!" you protest and try to push yourself off of him again but his hands keep you in place and your efforts are fruitless.

" **A** re you kidding me? You weight nothing to me, [y/n]."

You ignore him and carefully get off of him before walking to the front door where the boxes of supplies are still waiting to be picked up and put away. Looking through them to get some shampoo and shower gel out, a set of pajamas and a towel, you head up to the first floor where you've seen a bathroom while you were cleaning the house up and -and that's really a freaking plus- you actually were able to fix the shower pipe to bring hot water back, too.

_thank fuck the owners actually had their own resources, i love farm people._

 

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**10:00** **PM** **//**

There's three bedroom in this house, three freaking bedroom, yet, somehow, you and Randall ended up in the same one and you're now building a fort out of sheets, blankets and a scary amount of pillows... Okay, yes, it was your idea but the fact that Randall actually supported it a hundred percent only made it all go to being cute to bordering on insanity and you're now building a freaking house inside a house... You love it.

What happened is that; you two found a bedroom with a huge bed placed right in the top right corner of the room, a huge dresser made out of wood being right at the bed's foot, completely keeping anyone from seeing the damn bed in the first place and it created this super cozy feeling when you got on the bed, it felt like a safe little space with a seriously comfortable mattress as ground and, well, you both had the same damn idea at the same damn time which is what created this madness but, goddamn, you love how it turned out.

So, now, here you both are; Randall only wearing a pair of pajama pants and you in a pair of white pajama shorts, a simple black t-shirt covering your upper body, eating noodles because you both were way too tired to actually cook anything else, hiding away inside your bed-turned-fort, clearly trying to decide who can make the most disgusting, obnoxious noises whilst eating and, so far, you're winning.

" **Y** ou're fucking gross, sweet pea." Randall says with a chuckle.

" **Y** ou're gross."

" **Y** eah, I am, but this isn't about me right now, young lady." he points out, wiggling his fork at you as he speaks.

You giggle and can't help but get giddy when you think about the fact that Randall actually thought about your claustrophobia and took it in consideration when he decided to put blankets above your head to make your little fort, which is why he actually put them only a few centimeters away from the ceiling, making sure that there's a whole lot of space above your little head and you really, really, appreciate it.

You both finish your meal and Randall snakes his arm underneath the blankets serving as walls for your fort to put your plates down on the bedroom's floor before laying back down next to you on the thick mattress.

The two of you are silently starring at the blanket floating above your heads, your hands nervously playing with the hem of your t-shirt, " **W** h-" you start but quickly stop before asking questions you're not sure you want answers to.

" **W** hat is it, baby? Go ahead, talk to me." Randall says, keeping his eyes on the blanket above your heads, hiding the ceiling.

" **W** ha-what did Negan say to you e-exactly?" you ask, immediately regretting it.

" **W** ell," he starts, letting out a deep sigh before sitting down, making you do so as well, " **I** was heading to the cafeteria to take my breakfast with you when I ran into him and, of course, he looked pissed so I asked him what was going on and he shot me one of his super irritating cocky looks so, y'know, I was like "fuck it" and I kept walking but he told me that he was looking for you. That he already knew that you'd slept in my room with me that night so I told him to piss off and then, well, he basically just- Fuck, he basically told me that- That now matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to make you happy or to keep you for too long 'cause you'll always end up running back to him and, well, when I asked him why that would ever be a thing he-" he audibly swallows, prompting you to do the same, before looking at you as he keeps going, "He literally told me that he- Fucking hell- He told me that he ate you out the night before and, goddamn, the smirk on his fucking face just- It just set me off and, before I could do anything about it, I punched him and he dragged me to the compound to beat the holy fuck out of me."

_well, that's fucked up... fuck you too, negan. what the hell is wrong with this man._

" **H** e's wrong." you say barely above a whisper before looking at Randall, examining the stitched up cut on his brow.

" **N** o, he's not, I mean, he is about one thing and it's that you'll always go crawling back to him 'cause, hell, you never fucking did no matter how much you actually believe that you did, you never did crawl back to him, [y/n] but... Damn, he's right when it comes to me though, sweet pea. I don't know how to keep someone, I don't fucking know what the hell I'm supposed to do 'cause, y'know, I clearly did something wrong in my previous relationship and-"

" **S** he cheated on you, Randall, you didn't do a damn thing wrong, just stop. It's not your fault, it just isn't."

" **W** hy's it so easy for you to be kind to people, to recomfort them, when you're so fucking horrible to yourself, sweet pea? Why d'you mistreat yourself like that? You deserve so much better than this shit." he looks at you and carefully puts his right hand on your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin, " **R** andall gets beat up? S'my fucking fault. Things get difficult? Well shit, s'my fucking fault too. People are nothing but pure shit? My fucking fault as well. You need to stop, baby, you don't deserve this, you don't." he pauses and carefully makes you look up at him, " **Y** our father did not die because of you, [y/n]. Yes, you survived and he didn't and, yes, you were in the same damn car but it wasn't your fault, alright? You didn't fucking stab him, baby, it's called an accident for a reason."

" **B** -but if- if I didn't get a p-panic attack at school he-he wouldn't have had to come p-pick me up and he-he wouldn't h-have been wo-worried about me o-on the ride back and-and he would have con-concentrated on the road a-and not on m-me instead and-"

" **I** killed my mom." he quietly says, making you look up at him, confusion and sadness drowning your eyes, " **I** f that's you killing your dad then I guess that my old man was right and I did kill my mother, baby." he says with a small smile.

" **W** ha-what are you talking about? What happened?" you whisper as if someone might be listening and you need to keep it down.

" **M** y mama died at the exact same time my lungs opened, she just- She didn't pull through and my dad fucking hated me for- Well, being born, y'know?"

" **B** ut-But that's not-"

" **N** ot my fault? You sure about that?"

" **R** andall, p-please-"

" **B** aby, I was raised by a man that didn't even fucking name me. The nurses at the hospital had to name me, a nice nurse named Maria actually gave me my name." he pauses and lets out a small, dry chuckle, " **M** y dad? He fucking hated me and he never missed an opportunity to remind me of it. I grew up to become a little piece of shit that knew nothing but to shove his fists down people's throat, I hated everyone and I was no exception, [y/n]. My dad used to beat me until, one day, I ended up fighting back and kicked his drunk ass. The only thing that saved me, that actually helped me turn my life around, was when I discovered tattoos and that I could actually draw like no one else I knew could, it's so stupid when you think about it... Some ink and a needle fucking saved me from becoming a monstrous piece of shit."

" **I** -I would have hated everyone too if-if I would have go-go through-"

" **Y** ou did, sweet pea, you fucking did. And you've pulled through without changing your angelic ways, I'm sure of it."

" **I** -I just- I guess I never saw the point o-of being violent, y'know? To me, s'like feeding fire with gasoline."

" **I** t is, it really fucking is, baby." he pauses and gently pulls you into his arms one again, his hand softly running through your hair, " **I** t took so long for me to finally realize that I did not kill my mother, I was just a fucking baby for fuck's sake, and, y'know..." he lets out a sigh, a lot clearly going through his mind at the moment, " **S** hit, turned out that my mama wasn't able to pull through with my birth because people later found out that my dad was fucking abusing her. He got arrested and, hell, my mom? She actually- fuck, she'd actually plan to run off with me and it fucking sickens that she didn't have that opportunity, I fucking miss her. How can I miss someone that I never fucking knew, [y/n]? I don't fucking get it."

" **S** he was your mother, Randall." you start, getting out of the crook of his neck to push the tip of your nose against his, " **S** he was your home for nine months, you're bound to love your mother not matter how little you know about her. Hell, look at me, I loved my mom, and for what, uh? She was terrible to me but, y'know, she was my mom and I loved her, I still do."

" **S** he doesn't deserve your love, just so you know."

" **O** h yeah?" you start with a small smile, making him chuckle, " **T** hen who does, Chicago boy?"

" **N** o one fucking does, baby."

" **Y** ou're so negative, it breaks my poor little heart." you say with a mocked pout and a giggle.

" **W** e're gonna have to do something about those broken pieces of yours, sweet pea, and I'm all here for you if you need help figuring shit out. Y'know that, right?"

" **Y** eah. Yeah, I know. I'm here for you too, always, but-" you stop, unsure if you should go on or not but Randall silently tells you that it's okay for you to keep going with a simple look, " **I** t's just that... I'm not sure if I want to be fixed, y-you know?"

" **W** hy not, [y/n]?"

" **W** -well, it's hard to br-break what's al-already broken, right?"

" **Y** eah, I know, that shit scares me too, baby." he quietly admits and you swear that you can feel his breath fully hitting your lips, making your tongue stick out on its own, his eyes glued to your now wet lips, " **I** t scares the hell out of me when I think about just how fucking fast I grew attached to you."

" **I** know, it scares me too. S'why I try not to overthink it, I'm kinda sick of always overthinking everything." you let out a small sigh when Randall bits his bottom lip, wincing in pain as he clearly forgot about his bruises, making you laugh a little.

" **A** re you laughing at me? Are you for real, right now? How dare you?"

" **Y** eah, m'laughing at ya. What'ya gonna do about it, Chicago boy? You wanna fight about it, that it?"

" **D** amn," he starts with a genuine laugh, "y'know what? That's not I actually imagined our first date, baby, but, damn, I'm not complaining. The fort, noodle, deep talks and threats, looove it."

" **S** hut your mouth." you giggle, your cheeks starting to burn again, " **Y** ou actually pictured a date with me? That's chessy."

" **Y** eah, I know, but I don't really give a shit if I'm being honest." he says with a smile on his face as he carefully examines the black rose he tattooed on your left thumb a few days ago, " **M** e tattooing you, check. Building a super cool fort together, fucking check. Talking about personal shit without feeling judged, check and then, we won't talk about the rest of the list 'cause I don't want to traumatize you, baby."

" **Y** 'know, I've spend enough time around Negan to understand that, when a man says that he'll stop there, it's because what happens next is sexual."

" **A** aaaw! She's growing." Randall mocks with a smirk, making you blush, " **A** w, you're burning up, baby. M'sorry, I didn't m-"

You cut him off when you finally let your lips crash against his, his eyes almost popping out of their socket when he feels your lips on his but he quickly pulls himself together and, much to your surprise, he starts to become way more dominant than you ever thought he'll be.

He actually pushes you down on the mattress of the bed, one of his hand holding your hip whilst the other is resting on one of your cheeks, holding your face as he deepens the kiss. He waited way too long for this kiss to happen to just let go of you so easily., he doesn't want to let go, he can't.

You both never realized just how needed this was until now, now that you're both relaxing against one another and fighting your need for air just to keep the kiss going. It's like you're both addicted and it only took a few seconds. He tastes different than Negan does but you love it and, to him, you taste like his new favorite meal and he's not about to let go of it 'cause he's been starving for months.

You don't even realize that your hands are moving until one finds Randall's hair to undo the bun sitting on top of his head whilst the other is creeping along his chest, touching every bit of skin it can get to, making the tattooed man groan into your mouth and you can't help but to softly bit down on his swollen bottom lip, careful not to hurt him and he seems to enjoy that, a low grunt leaving his mouth the second your teeth let go of the fleshy lip to let it bounce back into place.

" **D** id I hurt you?" you whisper against his lips, keeping your hand into his hair to keep him close to you.

" **N** ah, baby Hell, you could fucking stab me and I'd still be into you."

" **W** ant me to get my knife? S'right below my pillow." you tease, making him chuckle.

" **D** amn, [y/n], I'm supposed to be the kinky one here, you can't out-kink me."

" **W** hat's that mean?" you ask and he finds himself facing the you that he's used to, the one he loves so fucking much, the innocent girl that won't hesitate to kick you in the nuts if you piss her off, no matter how harmless she looks.

" **Y** ou've got time to find out and I got a shit load of time to teach ya, baby." he says with a smirk before going right back to kissing your lips.

And it starts all over again. At first, it's sweet, he wants to make sure that you're comfortable and okay with what's happening, but then, when he sees that you are, it turns into the sloppiest, on the edge of hungry and angry kiss there is and you kind of love it a whole lot.

You don't know what the hell's gotten into you but, what you do know is that; it feels right. Being in his arms feels right, him touching you feels right, you touching him feels right, the two of you being here, together feels fucking right and it's being a long, long time since being alive felt so goddamn right to you so, right now, you're not willing to question anything, you just want to take it all in and let it be.

It's new and new has always been scary to you but you know that you needed it, you needed new. Hell, you needed to go back to you and, yes, you do think about Faith and even Laihla but, you don't regret being here, you don't regret leaving the Sanctuary. You don't regret **_him_**.

_you sure about that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more thing, I know this chapter is late, but I've had another terrible writer-block, like, I had no problem at all with the first part of this chapter, which is the flashback, but the rest was awful for me to write down, like, I knew exactly where I wanted to go, I just- I didn't know how to freaking get there and that's, like, one of the most terrified and frustrating feeling for me, I don't understand how you all are so freaking sweet, patience and supportive, I can't- I don't understand it but I do appreciate it, I truly do, you all mean the world to me, you give me so much, you don't even realize it. Overall, what I'm trying to say is that; I, in any case, never want this story to become a burden for me, so, yeah, I'm late with the uploads sometimes, I know and I truly am sorry but, I do not want to force it and end up hating what I put out, it's important for me to be able to look back on my work and feel somewhat proud of it just as much as it's important for me that you guys enjoy the story. I guess, the point is; I am a human being (a kind of broken one at that -_-) and I have very bad moments to go through just like I have very good ones, just- Thank you so much for being there for me, you seriously don't know just how much it means to me, how much every single one of YOU mean to me.
> 
> WOOO! Alright, alright, alriiiight! Who else is super excited about Team Family rising the hell up???? I AM!! MA SMOL BABIES ARE GONNA KICK SOME ASSES AND I'VE NEVER BEEN SO READY! ALSO, LET'S MAKE A PETITION TO PROTECT SASHA???? RIGHT NOW??? I'LL STAB A BITCH IF SHE GETS HURT, DO NOT TRY ME.  
> also, papa grimes bringing everyone together is A++++++++++++++++  
> yay!! I'm so hyper, it's ridiculous, Dwighty boy is finally seeing the light, praise the Lord, people.
> 
> ANYWAY, sorry for that, I'm just super excited and all o3o aren't you guys???  
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, I really liked writing it, it actually really appeased me to, y'know, write a softer chapter than I usually do. I hope you don't mind the slow pace but I think that both the OFC and Randall needed a freaking break from the insanity and, well, that's what it led to... and I kinda love it ^3^
> 
> As always, if you have any questions or even any requests for the future chapters, go right ahead and talk to me, boo, I'm all ears. 
> 
> Gosh, I like how I'm always like "okay, keep the notes short." but I always end up turning those into freaking books ;3; I'm sorry, I just like to interact with you and to keep you up to date, angels.
> 
> I hope you're all doing amazing and that you're safe, I know that there's a lot of scary things going on in this crappy world of ours but it's only more reasons for us to stick together and to be here for each other.
> 
> Alright, I'mma leave it at that, babies. I love every single one of you, you're all freaking precious and important, don't you dare even think about thinking about questioning it, I'll kick your ass.
> 
> I love yooooooou, stay safe, pretty please.


	18. Sharpened glass //

**1:00 AM //**

Goosebumps are covering your skin as you look out the window of the living room of the old farmhouse you've found safety in, your body missing Randall's body heat as you've spend the night sleeping curled into his chest, you've spot a few walkers roaming aimlessly in the fields surrounding the area but you're not too worried about them, you just have to be quiet and stay in the dark not to get their attention and that'll be that.

Your hands are softly rubbing up and down your bare arms, trying to provide some warmth to you but it doesn't seem to be doing it for you. Letting out a deep sigh, you walk away from the giant window of the living room and make your way up the stairs to silently reach the bathroom of the house, careful not to wake Randall up in the process.

You softly close the door behind him, cringing when it ever-so-slightly creaks, and turn the light on, blinding yourself with the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust to it once you've given them a rub.

You didn't end up having sex with Randall and you're glad that that's how it happened but, part of you feels like he might be upset about it even though he didn't even suggest it nor make a move suggesting that he wanted what was happening between you two to head that direction As a matter of fact, he simply gave you one last gentle kiss and lied down next to you before making chit-chat with a grin plastered on his face as he kept looking over your face, and you didn't feel anything but happiness in the moment but, after you both feel asleep, you eventually woke up in the middle of the night, realized that you've had found your way back against his body, and looked up at him only to feel guilt out of nowhere so you decided to sneak out to take some air.

You look at your reflection in the mirror sitting above the sink right in front of you; your eyes are all puffy, your nose is red, the skin below your nostrils red and raw from it running, and your cheeks are a deep crimson red. You're exhausted, you need to sleep but you can't, your anxiety is making damn sure of it.

For some reason, **he** 's in your mind. He's all over it, actually. You can almost **hear** the bastard's voice and it's starting to seriously get to you which you don't much care for if you're being honest.

You take a closer look at your face and gently trace the cuts Lucille left on the delicate skin of your cheek which don't look too bad and are already closed and you can only hope that, for once, you won't be left with scars to remember. Looking at your messy hair, you find yourself blinding reaching for a pair of scissors you remember being in the drawer right below the sink, and start cutting into the thick mass of hair, letting them fall on the cold tiled floor beneath you, some hitting your bare feet.

You carefully put the scissors down before eyeing the hair clipper laying on the counter top right next to the sink like it's taunting you and you take it, turn it on and start to clean the sides of your head, shortening the sides and the back put letting a fair amount of hair on top of your head, long enough that they're still long enough to fall right in front of your eyes if you push them to the front.

The door of the bathroom opens, making you jump and you silently thank whatever God that the blades of the clipper weren't actually working on your hair when Randall opened the damned door because, otherwise, right now, you'd have a huge bold stripe going from the back of your head to the front and, good God, you already have enough fucking problems without fucking up your haircut.

" **S** orry," he whispers whilst taking a look at your new haircut, "I didn't mean to scare ya, sweet pea. I totally love the new look though... If, like, that can help my case."

" **T** hanks." you shyly whisper back before looking at him and handing him the clipper, " **C** ould you-could you get the back, pl-please?"

" **F** 'course, baby." he says with a smile as he takes the clipper from you with a small smile before getting right behind you, one of his hands gently pushing your head down to get free access to the already shortened hair on your neck and up to the middle of your head , " **I** just trim it, right? Or, like, do you want it completely shaved off?"

" **N** -no, just-just buzz it a little bit, please."

" **A** lright, sweet pea. Stay still, yeah?" he softly demands before gently starting to trim the hair on the back of your head some more, it only takes him a few seconds to finish and, when he does, he can't help but run his hand through your freshly cut hair, loving the way it starts so short and gets longer the higher his hand gets on your skull, " **L** ook up, baby." he says with a smile, telling you to look at yourself and, when you do, you let out a small giggle, running a hand into your top to push them up and out of your eyes.

" **I** t's feels so weird" you whisper as you run a curious hand on the freshly buzzed sides of your head and then the back of your head, "b-but, I dunno- I really like it, y'know?" you admit with a small smile, looking at your now completely bare ears and feeling the cold air of the room hitting your naked neck.

" **Y** eah, you look really good, sweet pea. But, I mean- Why the new haircut at two in the morning, [y/n]?" he asks, sitting down behind you on the edge of the bathtub in the bathroom.

" **I** -" you start before lifting yourself up to sit on the sink, pushing your back against the big mirror on the wall behind you and letting your legs dangle down, " **S** 'just that-that- Damn it, I felt bad, alright? I felt bad because-because-" you let out a shaky breath, your hands shaking as you nervously pull on the hem of your tank top, " **I** felt bad because we-we didn't- You know, we- I didn't- And-and I thought that- I don't want you t-to be mad at me and-"

_didn't answer his question there, girl..._

"[ **Y** /n]." Randall softly interrupts, making you look up at him, "[ **Y** /n], baby, I'm not fucking mad at you, what the hell." he stands up and walks back towards you before settling right between your parted legs, his hands on either side of your thighs, his thumbs drawing gently circles on the full flesh in a soothing gesture, " **Y** ou feel bad because we didn't have sex? You feel bad because you thought that I was mad at you because of that?" you quickly nod your head yes, still looking down at your hands until one of his hands leaves your thigh and comes down on your cheek to gently pull your head up for you to look at him, " **T** hat shit was so far away from being in my mind, [y/n]. When I was kissing you? I wasn't thinking about taking things any further, I'm not stupid y'know? I could feel you tensing up, that's why I shut it all down, I don't want you to feel forced of anything when it comes to me or, hell, anyone, never. I would never, ever, pressure you into anything. That's fucked up and, fuck no, I would never be fucking mad at ya just because you're not ready for that kind of shit yet. You have to go with your guts and if you don't feel ready for that? S'perfectly fine, I'm a grown ass man, baby. I get it and, most importantly, I completely respect it, always. You've got nothing to be afraid of when it comes to me and especially when it comes to your sexuality and me breaking that kind of boundary, fuck that."

" **S** -so you-you're not mad?"

" **O** f course not, [y/n]." he says with a small chuckle before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead, " **W** e should go back to sleep though, baby. It's still late and we should really turn off the lights." he finishes, taking a quick peak through the small window in the bathroom.

" **Y** -yeah, I could u-use some sleep anyway." you admit before jumping off the sink and running out of the small bathroom, Randall turning the light off behind you before closing the door and getting back to your shared bedroom, holding your hand reassuringly on the way.

The second you pass the threshold of the bedroom, you run back into your little improvised fort before crawling back underneath the warm blankets on the bed, purring when your head hits your pillow, Randall softly chuckling at your antics before getting underneath the blankets with you and immediately turning on his side to look at you to find you looking right back at him with a small smile and a blush on your cheeks.

" **I** 'm really digging that new haircut you got going on, really suits you." he whispers, his eyes roaming all over your face.

" **T** h-thank you." you whisper back, absently biting down on your bottom lip in thought when you realize just how unfamiliar you are with those kind of words and it really hurts you. Not being able to take compliments isn't cute or witty, it actually really fuck hurts and it cuts deep every single time.

" **Y** ou're welcome, baby."

_what do you keep thinking about **him**? what the hell is going on with you?_

You frown slightly before shutting your thoughts off and gently crawling back to Randall. Reaching out for him, you leave a shy kiss on his lips before curling into his chest, kissing a few tattoos here and there before tracing them with your very fingertips, calming yourself down as he gently runs his hand through your freshly cut hair, hushing you and, eventually, his presence, his body heat and his voice end up lulling you to sleep in his arms, Randall following behind.

 

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**SANCTUARY** **//** **2:20** **AM** **//**

Negan is sitting there, looking outside the fence, wandering why the fuck he doesn't feel any better after spending his whole goddamn night fucking his so-called wives; he doesn't get it.

He didn't get any satisfaction out of it, at all, he doesn't feel any better and to makes it all shittier because now, he feels guilty as all hell because he can't stop thinking about how much it would hurt you if you ever find out that he just had sex with five different women in the same night, the sixth one not being included only because she actually still hangs on to her values and has an actually fully functioning brain in her head.

" **Y** ou're a fucking pig, Negan, y'know that?" Faith barks out behind him, peaking his attention.

" **E** xcuse me?" he asks with mocked shock on his features, turning around with a cocky smirk to make any trace of guilt or shame completely invisible but Faith isn't having any of his shit, not tonight.

" **I** was guarding the door to your fucking headquarters tonight, you fucking moron!"

" **T** hen why the fuck weren't you there when I got out?"

" **B** ecause the noises your- things were making made me wanna puke so I fucking left." she narrows her eyes and steps closer to the leader of the Saviors, " **W** hat the hell are you playing at, Negan? And who the fuck are you trying to fool, exactly?"

" **A** w, you're so cute. Thinking you can read me like a fucking open book. Try again, sweetheart."

" **O** h, so I'm just misreading shit, uh?"

" **Y** eah, learn how to fucking read, girly." he teases, knowing damn well that Faith cannot stand men using pet names on her.

" **A** lright then." she starts, a vicious smirk appearing on her full lips, " **T** hen I guess that you're not pissed about [y/n], your precious lil princess, being gone, out there all by herself and- Oh my God, I guess that you're also not pissed about how fucking pathetic it is that you actually went to five different women and that _none_ of them could get you off. I guess you have even less dignity and decency than I previously thought you did, Negan."

" **F** aith, shut your goddamn mouth before I do something I re-"

" **A** nd, I guess that I also got it wrong if I say that I know  **for a fact** that you're fucking **terrified** at the idea of her being happy without you? That you're not afraid of the fact that she doesn't fucking need you or anything you claim you have to offer her?" Faith taunts, knowing she got it all right, before looking Negan up and down in a disgusted fashion, " **Y** ou don't have shit to offer her, Negan, because she doesn't want superficial things. She doesn't want polish on her nails, makeup on her face and jewelry covering her entire goddamn body, hell, m'pretty sure that she never wanted those things even before all this shit went down. But, yeah, I guess you're right, I might have to start learning how to fucking read, Negan."

" **T** hings fucking changed, Faith. It ain't like it fucking used to be." Negan says, his voice low, making Faith turn back around, her arms crossed across her chest.

" **N** o, Negan, ain't shit changed but people. The only thing that truly changed is the fact that fucking dead people get back up, that's it, period. People didn't change, cut the "you have to evolve with the world that surrounds you" bullshit become that's exactly what it is; **bullshit**! You people didn't change, you're just finally being yourselves and you're fucking ugly, **all of you**."

" **D** 'you think your dau-"

" **D** on't!" she firmly cuts him, her jaw tightly clenched, " **D** on't you bring her into this, Negan. As a matter of fact, don't talk about her, **ever.**  Don't say her name and don't you fucking dare use her as a fucking shield, you fucking coward!" Faith snarls, quickly turning around before walking away from Negan and walking through the compound to get back to her bedroom, anger making her blood boil in her veins.

The second her door closes, she realizes just how alone she is now that both you and Randall are gone and that Connor is dead. She's never really felt lonely - Actually, yes, she has. It's just that she's never let it take over, she's never let herself feel it, **ever**. She's so afraid of that feeling but she knows; she knows it's there, it never fucking leaves her sides.

She takes her clothes off and slips into an old t-shirt before crawling in her bed, swiftly pushing her hand beneath the plushy pillow laying on the mattress to pull the walkie-talkie you gave her just yesterday out and hugs it close to her, hiding it beneath the blanket just in case, before falling deeply asleep, old memories coming back to pock at her wounds.

Meanwhile, Negan is violently swinging Lucille around, bashing a few of the walkers' guarding the place heads in, stopping himself before he puts them all down as the men working the night shift look from afar, wondering what the hell's got into him but also too scared to question his behavior so they just let him do his thing like they always do.

 

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**6:00** **AM** **//**

You wake up for the fourth time this night and decide that, this time; it's time for you to get up and get around to getting shit done. You're sick of falling asleep just to wake up an hour later over and over again for no apparent goddamn reason.

Quietly, you get out of the warm bed, trying your best not to wake Randall up as he's still sleeping like a baby next to you, before leaving the bedroom just as quietly. You softly close the door of the room, not making it click shut just in case it might be enough to wake the ex-tattoo artist and head downstairs, unsure of what to do next.

You look around the place, look outside through the windows and end up boiling yourself some water to make some tea, examining every single picture of the previous owners that you lay your eyes on while the water boils.

" **T** hey all look so happy and- Peaceful." you whisper to yourself but then let out a small scoff before putting the framed picture back in its place and walking away to go and get yourself a warm cup of tea.

Sitting down on the huge couch in the living room, your legs against your chest, a fuming cup of tea between your cold hands, you look around, lost and unsure of what you want and need.

You'e never, ever, stayed in the same place for more than two days that's, like, a rule of yours but this time around seems to be different. With Randall by your sides, you don't know if you'll be able to move as much, he's still seriously injured and he clearly isn't used to being out here, in the real world, anymore.

He's used to protection, easy access to food and water, hot showers, comfortable beds and wired fences protecting him. Thing is; those things are not part of the world out here, they're not part of _your_ world either.

Finding a place to settle in for the night, spending your days running around, sneaking around every place you find, fighting for your life, getting that rush of adrenaline, feeling completely whole and satisfied at the end of the day because you made it all by yourself, leaving little notes for other survivors out there, cleaning entire buildings for other people to be safe in before marking them to let people know that the place is clear, only killing if you have absolutely no other options, only taking what you need and always leaving some things behind for other people to get, **that's** your life, that's **you** , that's your version of pure freedom and happiness. **That's what makes you whole**.

The Sanctuary, Negan and his men, all of it, really, is your complete opposite and you know that. You hate it there, you hate those people. They're nothing a bunch of brain-dead bullies, a bunch of cowards who always wait for things to fall right in the palm of their hands, and, as for Negan... You don't know, you're unsure and you hate it because you know damn well that there's nothing for you to be unsure of; he's an abusive piece of shit and that's that yet, for some goddamn reason, you can't bring yourself to think of him that way and it drives you insane.

A loud banging noise pulls you out of your contemplation, making your head snap up only to spot a walker scratching at the window of the living room, looking at you whilst snapping its jaw hungrily, its hands smearing blood all over the glass.

With deep, annoyed sigh, you carefully put your now half empty cup of tea on the coffee table in front of the couch, and make your way to the entry hall of the house. Reaching your butterfly knife out of your shorts' waistband, you swiftly pull the blade of the knife out before unlocking the front door, the walker immediately trying to force its way in but you quickly push it off with your left forearm before completely stepping outside with it, closing the door behind you.

You get a tighter grip around the handle of your knife before swiftly grabbing the back of the walker's head and effortlessly push the sharp blade of the weapon right between its eyes, the rotten body going completely limp and falling down on the porch in front of the house as you let go of it.

You feel adrenaline pumping through your entire body, making your heart beat insanely fast and making it jump when you hear yet another groan which you decide to follow, the adrenaline pumping in your system taking decisions for you.

You follow the noise which leads you to the back of the big house, a small gasp escaping you when you spot a good dozens of walkers feasting on a dead animal. You're not sure what it used to be, all you know is that, it was a big one, maybe a horse or a cow, something along those lines.

You cover your mouth to keep yourself from puking right there on the spot, the smell so strong you can taste it and, goddamn, it tastes like shit.

You hear a few groans growing louder and you're pretty damn sure that they smelled you at this point, just because you're out their sight, doesn't mean that they won't know that you're here. Hell, they actually have quite a shitty eyesight but those fuckers sure as shit can smell you from a mile away, that much you know by now. You gotta learn the hard way sometimes, you sure fucking did.

You take a quick peak behind the wall to confirm your suspicions and, yes, a few of them are, indeed, heading towards you, looking kind of... curious? You're not sure if they're quite so sure as to what they're smelling but you do know one thing and it's that; you're not taking that chance, you're not dying today because you took a chance and ended up being completely wrong.

You swiftly round the wall, making yourself visible to them and, while some of them keep on eating the carcass of the dead animal, completely unaware and unbothered, the one already making their way to growling and starting to try and reach out for you with their hands, their jaws snapping and, you have to admit that, when they all do it at the same time, it sounds and looks quite fucking terrifying.

You ignore your shaking hands, unsure if you're shaking because you're afraid or because of the adrenaline rushing through your veins, before swiftly grabbing one of the walkers and bringing it flush against you, shoving the blade of your knife in its rotten head and letting go of it to let the now dead body fall flat on the ground beneath your feet, you repeat the same process over and over again, taking them one by one and pushing them off of you when they try to out-number you.

A good five minutes later, you're covered in blood, you smell like death and your breath is hectic as all hell. There's blood literally **all** **over you** ; your bare legs, your arms, the small amount of cleavage that isn't covered by the dipped collar of your t-shirt, your throat and your face, you look like a real life horror show but it's been a **long** , _**long**_ time since you've felt so damn good.

You love that feeling, your heart beating out of your chest, adrenaline consuming you, your hands shaking, your knife dripping blood and covered in pieces of flesh, it's insane but; this is home to you, something familiar, something you can blindly walk into. This specific state that you're in is your very own home, that's when you feel the safest, the most confident, this is **your** territory, your world and no Negan could ever take that away from you. No one ever could, no one ever will, you won't let them.

**This is your world and nobody does it like you.**

You take a few steps forwards to take a look at what the hell those drooling freaks were chewing on and realize that it's a deer. It must have gotten lost in the night and ended up here before it got cornered by the walkers its smell must have attracted.

_poor thing..._

"[ **Y** /n]?" you hear Randall calling for you from the house's porch so you decide to show yourself before he attracts some more walkers.

_damn, give me a break, will ya._

You make your way back around the house, getting into Randall's sight. He's smiling at first when he spots you and you wave at him but his smile is pretty damn quick to fade away when you get closer to him and he realizes that you're completely caked in fresh blood, bloody knife in hand.

" **W** hat the hell-"

" **J** ust a few walkers, took care of it though." you nonchalantly state before sitting down on the steps leading up to the porch. Your back turned to Randall as he strands behind you.

" **W** hat the fuck, [y/n]. Why didn't you wake me up? I could have helped you for fuck's sake, you could have-" he starts, his voice sharp but filled with worry.

" **I** said I handled it, Randall." you grit out, " **N** ow, let's stop talking about it, yeah? It's done, it's taken care of so shut up about it, already." you snap, adrenaline affecting your mind and pushing words that are not supposed to slip out of your mouth out, " **D** amn it, m'sorry, Randall." you say with a sigh, realizing that you just snapped at him for no goddamn reason, " **I** t's just- S'okay, I'm okay and I- I don't want you to think that I'm some helpless girl that always needs someone's hand, 'cause I'm not, I can handle myself." you hear Randall chuckle behind you and then he's joining you on the steps leading on up to the porch, sitting right next to you and looking at you with a warm smile.

"[ **Y** /n], sweet pea, I know that you can handle yourself. I've never doubted that, at all. You're way more capable than all of the people left on this Earth all put together so, yeah, that's definitely not what I'm worried about, here. I'm just worried about things getting out of hand 'cause, no matter how much knowledge you have out here, things can go south real fucking quick. Also, I don't want you to think that relaying on people is wrong or that it makes you weak, because it doesn't. You do get to ask for help, and not just when you're out here, you can ask help with anything."

" **R** elaying on people is a mistake, Randall. How do you not understand that?" you ask him with a frown, sounding almost offended by his words, " **A** fter Negan? After-After Connor? He relayed on me and he died because of it, and you? You relayed on Negan to keep you safe, fed and warm and, damn, look where that got you." you state, pointing at his beat up face.

" **N** ot all people are like him, [y/n]. And, as for Connor, he was right to rely on you. What happened to him was not your fucking fault so stop with the constant bashing."

" **Y** eah," you start, standing up off the steps, "you keep telling yourself that while I keep reality out of your sight, don't worry about it." you coldly say before walking back inside the house with a scoff.

" **W** hat the hell's gotten into you, uh?" Randall calls after you, following you inside the house, clearly confused by your behavior.

" **Y** ou don't fucking get it, do ya?" you snap, turning around to look at him with narrowed eyes, " **I** 've heard people talk just like you, Randall and now-now they're-they're fucking dead and-and it's all because- It's all because I couldn't force them to face the reality of things! This world is crap and people take advantage of you, **all the time**! People will kill you for a piece of soap, Randall! You can't put your life into someone else's hands, that's stupidity, you need to understand that; you're all you've got, Randall." you finish with tears in your eyes, trying your best to keep them to yourself, " **I** can't- I can't watch it happen again, Randall. I can't- I can't handle it, n-not again, pl-please." he carefully watches you before grabbing your forearm, pulling you into his chest, a sob leaving your mouth the very second your bodies make contact, your hands desperately gripping his bare biceps, your nails digging into the solid skin, as if he'll vanish if you don't hold on to him, " **M** 'scared, Randall. I'm always scared."

" **A** nd it's normal for you to be, baby. It's okay." he whispers against the top of your head, gently kissing it as his hands softly rub your back up and down, trying to calm you down.

" **W** -why ca-can't I feel s-safe too? Why can't I d-do that?"

You feel lost, you feel lonely and it feels like every single drop of adrenaline you had in your body a few seconds ago just morphed into pure sadness and you fucking hate it with every single fiber of your being.

It's insane just how fast your mood changed. It's insane that, no matter what you feel, you're still thinking about **him**. You wonder if he would've been proud of you for putting down those walkers all by yourself with only a knife in your bare hands, you hope that he'd be, you really want him to be and it sucks. You crave his validation and chase after his praises.

You fucking miss **Negan** and that's the last thing you ever thought you'd do, it feels like your own mind is betraying you.

_how can you miss someone that hurt and constantly mistreats you?_

You don't fucking know, that's the biggest issue here; you don't understand what's happening, all you know is that it hurts like hell and you don't much care for it. You want it to stop, you need it to fucking stop.

" **M** aybe-" Randall starts, his soft voice pulling you out of the war-zone that is your mind, "[ **Y** /n], look at the crappy world we're living in. It's perfectly normal that you can't feel safe, baby, hell, I don't think anyone in their right mind would ever feel safe knowing what the hell is happening out there." he pauses and gently pushes your head further into his chest, " **A** nd you know that, I know you do."

_he doesn't get it, does he?_

You let out a shaky sob against Randall's chest before nodding your head, slowly backing away from him and taking a deep breath, " **R** andall," you take a deep, shaky breath and look up at him, "you don't understand. I- I don't feel safe h- **here** , **inside**. I-I- just- It's- Damn it!" you snap, frustrated by your stuttering, " **I** don't feel safe indoors, alright? I hate it! I hate being stuck between four walls, I hate having to pretend that everything is fine and that there isn't a bunch of dead people walking around outside, looking for fresh flesh, okay?! I fucking hate it! It's so-so- It's so pointless! And I hate people, Randall! Oh my God! I hate those!" you exclaim, stepping away from Randall, your hands moving all over the place as you speak, " **T** hey just take and take and take and, fucking hell, they never look back on the things that you did to keep them alive, ever! But, oh boy, you fuck up once? Take that one goddamn decision that everyone think is wrong? And suddenly, every fucking thing that ever happened is your fucking fault! Hell, y'know what? I taught myself not to expect anything from anyone because it's stupid and it shouldn't be how things work, right? 'Cause, like, you're supposed to be nice to people because it's supposed to come from a genuine place, right? But, y'know what? No matter how hard I tried, how badly I wanted to keep my mind from drifting in that direction, I ended up being sick and tired of always doing everything, of making every single decisions and never getting as much as a thank you afterwards." a sob escapes your lips and you step back when Randall takes a step forward to get to you, putting a shaking hand up to silently tell him to stay away, " **I** always ended up being that bitch, Randall. The girl who killed to protect her group just for them to look at me like I'm some kind of heartless bitch that only knows how to kill and hurt! I was that bitch because someone had to fucking be! Because whenever someone got bit, I had to be the one putting them down, me! Why always fucking me?! Oh, you need to bury someone? Have [y/n] do it! And guess what? [Y/n] always fucking did that shit, she put people down, dug graves and buried them because no one else wanted to have their friends' blood on their hands, no one else wanted to be **that** bitch! What about me?! I hate people and I hate what they do, I hate how selfish and fucking cruel they are! They're so fucking cruel and it hurts so fucking bad, Randall!"

"[ **Y** /n], hey, it's okay, calm d-" he tries but your mind doesn't register his attempt.

" **I** threw myself in the middle of a fucking horde just to go and get a few medical supplies but I still ended up being the heartless bitch because the man that needed the fucking supplies died while I was away and he turned and killed his daughter, Randall!" you lash out, tears running out of your eyes like they rarely ever did before, your nose running all over the place and your heart pounding in of your chest so loudly it's filling your ears, " **H** is-His name was Heath a-and his dau-daughter's name was B-Bailey, he-he left his wife behind." you let out a nervous laugh between your cries, " **S** he fucking hated me, slapped me three times in a row, so hard that she ended up tearing the skin of my cheek." you whisper, your shaking hand softly going up to touch the faded scar marking your left cheek among the ones Lucille left there as well, " **I** buried them together and I left... Came back two days later a-and the place was overrun by walkers, they all died." you whisper, the fight leaving your body, " **I** saw them, all roaming around, but I didn't do anything about it... I didn't want to but, now, I regret not doing it, y'know? I wasn't in the right place at the time a-and I- I just- I was just s-so tired of al-always being _that_ bitch." you look up at him with teary eyes and a small smile, shrugging with a sad laugh, " **I** 'm sick of it, Randall. I'm done."

Randall is about to say something but you let out a sigh and walk away from him, from the conversation, before running up the stairs and locking yourself up in the bathroom to get some time on your own.

The tattooed man lets out a sigh as well, slamming the front door of the house shut, making the walls of the hall shake violently, before walking to the living room and letting himself fall on the soft couch, his hands running through his long blond hair in pure frustration.

This is going to be a long day for both of you.

 

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**SANCTUARY** **//** **7:00** **AM** ** //**

Faith is violently woken up by the sound of the door of her bedroom being slammed open.

" **W** hat the f-"

" **R** andy boy fucking disappeared, Faithy girl-" Negan states with an unreadable distorting his features and a feral smirk crooking his mouth.

" **W** hat does that have do to with me, man? What the fuck, you can't just wake me up like that, are you fucking insane?" Faith protests before groaning into her pillow, not nearly awake enough to deal with this shit.

Negan chuckles and shuts the bedroom door before sitting down on a chair next to her bed, his head resting on his hands which are resting on top of Lucille's handle, her bloody, wired head digging into the bedroom's floor.

With a defeated sigh, Faith slowly sits up on the mattress, not giving a single shit about the fact that she's only wearing knickers and an old shirt, and looking intensely at Negan. Deep down, she's afraid that he might see right through her and understand that she lied to him about not knowing where you are, that she lied about looking for you but she keeps her composure.

She reminds herself to keep her calm and to do what she does best; play Negan's game, " **A** re you just gonna sit there or..?" she asks, already annoyed with his presence.

" **I** don't like being fucked with, Faith." Negan says through clearly gritted teeth, tapping Lucille's head against the floor, his shoulders tensing up, " **S** 'lot of people missing, I can't fucking have that-"

" **S** 'two people, Negan." she spits back, her annoyance crystal clear, " **T** wo people that you've been mistreating and bullying for a good while now so, how the fuck can you be surprised by the fact that they ran off? After the shit you've done to Randall? What the fuck happened there, uh?"

" **H** e crossed a fucking line, Faith-"

" **O** h yeah, right, he dared to care about the girl you kept on fucking up with, shouldn't have asked, my bad." she says, rolling her eyes, trying not to punch him right there and then.

Negan lets out a cold, frankly quite menacing, chuckle before getting up off the chair he's sitting on and walking closer to Faith's bed, Lucille in hand, before kneeling down to be face to face with Faith.

" **Y** 'know what? I'm gonna let that one go, **again** , and fucking assume that you're being a fucking brat because of that bipolar shit you've got goin' on, yeah?" Faith's jaw clenches at that, " **B** ut, just so you know, I won't let you off the hook so fucking easily next time Faith, no matter how fucked up your brain is. We clear ya lil' moody freak?"

Faith stays completely still, her stomach clenching shut, her whole back tensing up. Ddid he just call her a "moody freak"? Who the fuck does he think he is?

" **F** uck you, Negan. Go fuck yourself, you're a terrible person. I can't pull up with your bullshit anymore, I'm sick of you and your twisted games."

" **A** w, don't be like that, Faithy girl." he says with a grin, satisfied to see that his words actually got to her, maybe enough for her to talk, " **I** 'll give you a big ol' apology if you tell me where my baby girl ran off to. I know you know, Faith, I fucking knew the second you fucking gave me the worst crap story there is when I told you she was gone. C'mon now, I know you would never go look for her, you don't fucking want her here, I fucking know that but, guess what?" he smirks and tilts his head, getting slightly closer to Faith's face, " **S** he's fucking mine and I never, ever, fucking lose nor let go of what's mine and mine only."

" **W** hat about Randall, uh? Isn't he yours too? Fuck, aren't all of us yours, mister "I have to own everything to feel like a manly man""? she spits out bitterly, getting tired of his shit and slightly getting aggravated by his cocky attitude.

" **Y** eah... Yeah, you used to be, and you all still kind of fucking are, dolly, but, here's the thing though-" he pauses, with smirk turning feral again, " **I** 'll fucking kill every single one of you if that's what it takes for her to get her sweet bubbly little ass back home, by my goddamn sides, where she fucking belongs."

Faith's mind starts to take in his words, processing them; is he actually being protective of you? Is this his version of romance? To Faith, it seems like it. Negan never talks like that, it's really foreign to her and it is for him as well.

" **I** -I can't- I can't tell you, I can't do that to her." she finally cracks a little, his behavior putting her off.

Negan stands up straight, standing tall right in front of her who's still sitting on her bed before leaning back and letting a cold chuckle out, his gloved right hand tightly gripping Lucille, " **O** h boy! Fuckin' hell, Faith! You are testing my fucking patience right now and I don't fucking have a lot of that!" he exclaims before violently slamming his bat against the wall behind him, making Faith slightly jump on her mattress at the sound, " **I** 'm seriously sick of your shit, Faith!"

" **F** uck you! You can't just bash my fucking wall like that! What the fuck?!" she protests before getting out of bed, her hand reaching under her pillow to fetch the radio you gave her earlier on, Negan's eyes immediately sticking to the small black box, " **Y** ou wanna know where she is so fucking badly? There, fucking ask her yourself, you fucking prick!" she hands the radio out to Negan but he only laughs at her, looking at her in disbelief.

" **I** know you a little too fucking well to fall for that lil' trick, Faith." he says with a smirk, knowing damn well that she wasn't actually about to give him the damn radio, " **Y** 'know what? I think you need some time off, yeah?" he adds with a mean smirk still splattered on his face, Faith shooting him a confused expression which quickly turns into fear when she gets where this is going, " **Y** eah, y'know what I'm fucking talking about don't you, dolly?" he gets closer to her, his breath hitting her closed mouth as his mean smirk turns into a full on wolfish grin, " **I** 'm gonna have to put you back into your little box for a lil' while, aren't I? Like the good ol' days, remember? Damn, took ya a while to calm the fuck down and actually realize what was good for ya, didn't it?" he taunts, knowing damn well that he's putting pressure on the right nerves.

" **I** 'm not going back in this shithole, Negan, fuck you! I'm not going back! Fuck you!" she yells, violently pushing him away from her but he only moves a slight bit which seems to be really funny to him, it isn't to Faith though.

" **F** aith," he starts, gripping his bat a little tighter, "everything can go as smooth as my baby girl's ass or we can make this real fucking hard if that's what ya want, what's it gonna be? You're gonna walk there or am I gonna have to fucking drag you in there myself? In front of all your little friends?" he lets out a small chuckle, " **I** n front of Dwighty boy? S'that what ya want, dolly?"

The dark skinned woman screws her eyes shut, trying to make it all go away but she knows that it's all too real for it to just vanish, she knows that she's gonna have to push her pride away for now and actually walk to a fucking cell, the same damn cell that Negan threw her in when he first found her and she tried to kill him and his men after they killed one of her loved ones.

She doesn't want to go back, she can't, but she's gonna have to and it sickens her. She drops the radio in her hand, her head aching as she tries her hardest to make Negan disappear but he's still right here, in front of her.

 

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The door of the cold, dark cell slams shut, creating a loud noise, making Faith's head aches some more as tears start to roll down her face; she's terrified. All she can think of now is her deceased girlfriend as well as her long gone little girl.

Negan always says that he doesn't kill to kill; it's bullshit. Faith's seen him kill one of her closest friend for no goddamn reason, she couldn't actually believe that she used to know Negan, that she used to fucking work with him, to actually consider him a close friend as she watched him bash her best friend's head in. They used to get along great and it seems like Negan doesn't understand just how fucked up he is now. To him, their relationship hasn't changed and neither did he, Faith begs to differ.

She lets a sob out, bringing her legs up to her chest to hide her face away in her knees, trying to stop thinking, trying to shut her mind up, to make it all go the fuck away but it's here and she has to deal with it, she always does.

" **I** miss you so fucking much Brook and I miss our little baby. I miss you two so, so much." she whispers against her legs, trying to appease her mind but it seems to be on overdrive right now and there's nothing she can do but wait for it to cool down on its own.

You're on her mind as well, Negan took the radio you gave her and she's afraid that he might actually use it but she knows that, even if he does, you won't tell him where you are and that's not what she's worried about.

She's worried about you as a whole. She wonders if you're alright, if you've found shelter, if you've spend a good night of sleep, if you're getting enough rest, if Randall is alright, if he's in pain or not, it feels like she's going insane and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it so she just lets her body fall on the small, crappy bed in the small cell and just stares blankly at the dirty ceiling above her waiting, for what? She's not a hundred percent sure, all she knows is that; she's fucking waiting for something, anything will do.

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**1:00 PM //**

You've spend the rest of your morning crying in the bathroom, Randall sitting at the other side of the door, talking to you and trying to get you to open the damn door but you keep on telling him to leave you alone, a request which he ignores every single time, afraid that you might seriously hurt yourself if he leaves. He just needs to be here, it reassures him to hear you, to know that you're somewhat okay.

Your anxiety is eating you alive, you're here, crying your heart out in an empty bathtub, your whole body shaking and your head aching yet, all you can think about is Negan. You can't stop feeling nervous about the fact that he's not around, he's nowhere for you to just reach out for him and ask for re-comfort, you miss him. 

You miss his stupid dirty jokes that you don't fucking get, you miss his cocky attitude, you miss his voice, you miss him pulling you in for a quick kiss just because, you fucking miss him as a whole and you hate that he's not right here. You realize that you don't feel well at all when you're apart from him, you don't fucking know why but you just can't properly function without him around and it sucks. Not having him near just doesn't feel right.

That man has you wrapped around his fingers and you want to escape from his grip as much as you want him to tighten it.

_yeah, you're going insane... this is it, today is the day when you lose your fucking mind and there's no turning back, girl, you're fucked. completely and utterly  f u c k e d._

You need some air, you need to move, you need to distract your mind, you need to shut it all off yet you can't move, you don't want to.

You feel like crap about your outburst, you feel like crap for talking the way you talked to Randall. He doesn't deserve this, he's always been there for you and you're being pretty damn obnoxious right now. It's unfair to treat him that way, that's also why you've been crying so much, because you hate that you've snapped at him for no other reason than that; he was here and you needed to vent the hell out.

Walking out of the tub, you make your way to the locked door of the bathroom and sit down of the cold tile floor, your back leaning against the door and the back of your head resting on it, " **M** 'sorry, Randall. M'piece of shit, I'm sorry." you whisper through your side of the door, your voice teary and raw from crying and sobbing for hours on ends.

"[ **Y** /n], baby, please just- Just come out here, please? I really need you right now. Please?" he pleads through the thick door, his forehead resting on the hard wood.

" **Y** ou deserve so much better than to be stuck with me. You really do and I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry." you say, your mind not registering his plea.

"[ **Y** /n], listen to me. The conversation we've had this morning did not hurt my fucking feelings, I need you to know that, alright? It actually really helped me understand what's what and I fucking needed that, I really did, I wanted it-"

" **N** o, Randall, I'm fucked up. The way I see the world, the way I see people is fucked up. Trust me, you're good being exactly who you are, you truly are."

" **S** hut up, you shut up right now, I'm sick of this crap, [y/n]." he snaps from his side of the door though his voice is soft and filled with concern, " **I** fucking needed this conversation and the way you see things isn't fucked up, it's the way it is because of what you've been put through. How the fuck is that your fucking fault? Look- Just, please, come out here, we can pack some things and move out. S'like you said, staying in one place isn't a good thing, at all. There's a bunch of walkers in the area, it's not fucking safe anyway so, please, [y/n], c'mere and give me a fucking hug 'cause I really fucking need it, baby."

He lets out a relieved sigh when he hears the door click open and sees the knob turning, the door opening shortly after and he feels like his lungs are finally receiving air again when you immediately lunch yourself into his chest, hiding your face in it, your hands snaking around his waist to rest on his back and your fingers clinging to his shirt like it's some sort of life support.

" **M** 'sorry." you cry into his chest.

" **S** hh, I'm sorry too, baby." he whispers into your hair.

The two of you stay in each other's arms for a good ten minutes, forgetting just how tense and tired you both are and just letting your fears and worries vanish for a short instant until your walkie-talkie starts to freak out in the bathroom, " **H** ot damn, baby girl, you're in so much fuckin' trouble, y'know that? Hell, lil' Randy boy ain't gonna be able to just walk this one off either, that's for fucking sure." you hear Negan's voice say and you can fucking hear him grinning through the damn radio.

You and Randall look at each other, he looks terrified and you don't look any better, all the pigment in your skin just melted and is now painting the floor beneath your feet... well, if that was anatomically possible, that's what it'd be doing.

" **I** -is that- Fucking hell, that's Negan. What the fuck! Faith fucking set us up!"

" **N** -no-No she-She wouldn't do that Randall, she-"

" **A** lright, then, I'm going fucking crazy and I'm hearing his voice now 'cause, I mean, you clearly didn't fucking hear what I just fucking heard if-"

" **I** heard, Randall." you stop him, trying to make him snap out of his fear, " **L** isten, baby, it's okay." you coo, softly pushing his head against yours, " **I** t's okay, baby. It's okay, you're okay, we're okay. It-it'll be okay." you softly whisper and you can hear his breathing slowling back down, his body relaxing against yours, " **H** e has the walkie but the fucker doesn't have our location-"

" **W** hat if Faith told him-"

" **S** he hasn't, she wouldn't, I know that. Plus, she doesn't know either, Randall. He doesn't fucking know where we are and I'm not about to let him find out, alright, baby? But, for now, we gotta go. Together, yeah?"

" **Y** -yeah. Yeah, together."

You give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his hand in yours before letting go of him, telling him to grab everything he thinks is useful but, as he runs down the stairs to start gathering supplies, you stay right in front of the open bathroom's door, looking at the small, harmless black box, your brain waiting for Negan to somehow jump out of it.

You never thought that such a small, seemingly harmless thing could ever scare the crap out of you like that yet, even though you are scared, scared for Randall's life and safety, scared because if Negan has the damn radio then it means that Faith must have gotten into trouble and you can feel your stomach eating itself up just at the thought of her being hurt in any way... For some fucked up reason, you always can't help but feel better now that you've actually heard his voice, now that you've heard him call you baby girl, no matter how dark his voice was, he spoke to you and that's all you needed.

You might have mixed feelings about Negan, you might not fucking understand what the hell is going with you when it comes to him but, one thing you do know for damn sure is that; you fucking care a whole bunch about Randall and you won't let him get hurt, or worse, you can't, not him, **not like that**. 

To you, it doesn't matter what it'll take to keep Randall away from Negan's claws, you'll do it all, again, and again, and again, and again 'til you can't fucking breathe anymore, you'll carry that burden even if it fucking kills you.  **You'll die before he does**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there lil cupcakes! I hope you're all doing alright and that you're safe, if you're feeling down, please, please don't hesitate to come and talk to me, m'always here for you and I'll be more than happy to talk with you or even just let you vent out if you feel the need to.
> 
> Alright, I'mma say it again -just cos I can... wanna fight?- I have proofread this whole chapter BUT my eyes are being lil brats today so I can't really do any better than that, just so you know, what actually happens to my eyes is that, they can't really function properly when they're tired -it's like that for everyone, really, but, the difference with me is that, they get tired very easily and really quickly- so my vision gets extremely blurry which is why I can't really read nor write for too long. ANYWAY ENOUGH WITH THE BORING MEDICAL STUFF!
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter, if not... well... you can throw a knife at my face or something, I dunno.
> 
> As always, if you have any questions or/and even suggestions, go straight ahead, I'm all about hearing you guys out, ya lil creative rays of sun -not gonna lie there, I'm so used to it that I actually wrote "ya lil pieces of shit" at first, no offence to you angels, I'm just really rude and mean-
> 
> OH! OOOOH! ALSO!!! THE OFC IS STARTING TO USE LIL PET NAMES!! SHE'S STARTING TO CALL RANDALL BABY AND SHE'S GETTING A TINY BIT MORE TACTILE WITH PEOPLE AND I KINDA REALLY LIKE IT 'CAUSE THAT'S FUCKING PROGRESS RIGHT THERE, OKAY, BYE.
> 
> I loooooooooOOOOove you, stay safe and please, pleeeeaaaase, take time for yourself, make time for you and only you because you're fucking important and I won't stop reminding you of just how important you truly are until it gets through to you, am I clear? I betta hear a fucking yes or I'll kick your ass... with love, of course, what the hell.
> 
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND! i'm out. buh-bye... i luv you... *smooches* ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵


	19. Her bruised and swollen heart //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, yeah, first things first: THIS SO SUPER LATE, I KNOW AND I'M SO, SO, SO, SORRY ABOUT THAT. I honestly had a crappy couple of days, like, the "super shitty combo" kinda couple of days, y'know what I mean?
> 
> Plus, my birthday was, like, yesterday, and I feel like shit, I always feel like crap through the whole week before, the very day is fucking terrible and then it goes away, like, two days after but, yeah, ANYWAY! 
> 
> I had a lot -like, a LOT- of difficulty concentrating when I was writting, like, I would write for ten minutes then get completely distracted and, let me tell ya, ten minutes is NOTHING when you write, like, at all. -at least, not to me-
> 
> BUT YEAH! I'm truly sorry about the delay but, hey, I was on schedule for two weeks in a row so, hey, it kind of was to expect... at least it was to me... yeah... I'm the worst.
> 
> AGAIN! I'M SORRY BABIES BUT I TRULY APPREACIATE HOW PATIENT YOU ALL ARE WITH ME, I HAVE TO BE HONEST, MY A.D.D DIDN'T HELP -at all- THESE PAST FEW DAYS WHEN IT CAME TO WRITTING -or even holding a conversation and reading- BUT I GOT THROUGH IT SO... YAY (?)  
> I dunno, I just hope that you're not to mad at me and that you'll actually enjoy this chapter.
> 
> ps; yaaay (?) i'm an "adult" now... i'm scared, halp meh.  
> psss, also, this chapter is short, I know, but I just had to post something so, yeah, that's what came out, I'm sooooorry, also, PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME IF THERE'S A LOT OF MISSPELLED THINGS, THAT PROBABLY HAPPENED 'CAUSE I MISTYPE THINGS A LOT WHEN MY A.D.D IS ACTING UP LIKE A LIL BITCH, I'M SORRY, I REALLY AM, I JUST HOPE THAT IT'S NOT TOO BAD.

**A MONTH LATER** **//** **1:00 PM** **//**

You're not sure, really not sure, if you ever felt so much pain before, you really doubt it but, still, you keep searching for a specific day when you might have felt that much pain yet, you can't find any and, damn, you really, really tried. Nothing ever hurt you as bad as you're hurting right now, nothing you've ever felt can compare to it and it's bad news for you.

It's bad because you're always one to compare one pain with an other to try and diminish it a little bit. For example; when Randall was burning the rose sitting on the outside of your left thumb into your skin, you thought about how it felt when you used to get beat up at school which turned the pain you were feeling when he tattooed you as a simple discomfort, nothing more.

You're unsure of what happened or how and why it happened, all you know is that; two bullets went through your body and one of them is still in there, comfortably laying inside your right shoulder, the little shit pierced right through your ligaments and is now stuck between your clavicles. Well, at least, that's what you assume since it didn't come out and you feel like screaming every time you try and move your shoulder a little.

You're not sure where the bullet is precisely, which is gonna make it even more painful and complicated to remove it on your own, but you know that it hurts like a bitch and that you now have to rely on your left arm to shoot which is bad news writing all over because the only gun you have is a small handgun that Randall found a few weeks ago and ordered you to keep by your sides in case of emergencies but, you see, the fun part; it's impossible to use with good ol' lefty because fuck you that's why. You tried since you usually have no problem working with either of your hands but this gun told you to piss right off with this crap and you're not sure how you feel about that now that your left hand is your only option.

Obviously, you can't use your bow since it requires both of your hands and shoulders more specifically.

To add to your already bad condition, you also got shot right through the belly, you don't know if the bullet actually hit anything major or not, all you know is that; it hurts like hell. The bullet went straight through so you know that it didn't get through your guts, otherwise it wouldn't have been able to get back out so easily and you would have felt way more pressure when it went through, that much you **know**.

" **F** 'cking pricks- Can't I just go one day without everything going to shit? Seriously." you mumble angrily as you stumble forward and let your upper body drop flat against the hood of an abandoned car.

You try to recall what led up to you getting fucked up like that but it proves to be a really difficult task when you're profusely bleeding out and your entire body is aching for care and medical attention which you can't provide it with.

You feel like crying, you want to cry because of the pain but also because of the fatigue, the fact that Randall is now missing and the fact that you have no way to ask for help, no one to run or turn to.

You and Randall both have been moving all over the place for a moth now, a whole month in which you almost ran straight back to Negan but successfully avoided it. You don't know why you always somehow end up feeling this urge to run back to him and to apologize, you just do.

No, you have **nothing** to apologize for but you feel like you do none the less. You ran away from him and now you feel bad because, well, he's not around you anymore, he's not here teasing the hell out of you, making your cheeks burn so much that it hurts, making really crude and sexual jokes that you don't even get, hell, you even miss his annoying, ridiculously long and unnecessary speeches about how amazing he thinks he is and how powerful he actually believes he is.

You don't know why you feel that way, it hurts you to feel this way because you don't want to feel anything but hatred for him yet, you can't lie, you miss him terribly. And, because you've found yourself missing Negan, your brain also brought back old memories of your friends, especially the Dixons. You miss those two idiots, you miss Merle's attitude, you miss it because you knew that it was just a way for him to deal with things he was afraid of, when you two were together, he'd always himself be and that's how you knew.

That's how you knew that Merle wasn't a bad man, he was just really messed up and he had really shitty ways to deal with a pain no one really ever seem to understand or even give a shit about and, really, who were you to judge him? And, as for Daryl... You just miss talking to him really late at night, you miss doing some really stupid shit with him, you miss falling asleep curled up in his arms, you miss the times when he would talk you into messing with his dad while he was snoozing away on the couch, you just miss him and it hurts to just think about it, hell, it hurts to think about _them_.

You miss Luna, you miss Merle, you miss Daryl, you miss Connor, hell, you miss Randall. You just feel so lonely and you're not too excited about that specific feeling if you're being honest because you know it all too well, it's been clinging to you for years now and you know fully feel what kind of damages it can do.

You groan against the rusty hood of the car your upper body's been laying on for the past five minutes before pushing yourself back up, your left arm shaking under the pressure as you push yourself up and you wince in pain when the bullet wound in your shoulder throbs in protest, making you curse out loud.

" **R** andall!" you call out in pure pain and panic, afraid and upset but, above all, angry beyond belief.

_where the hell are you!_

You're losing too much blood and you know that you have to get a move on before you end up passing out in the middle of the road for the walkers roaming around the area to make you their next meal. You know they can smell you, hell, your blood is the only thing **you** can smell so you're not surprised to see and hear a bunch of them groaning around and you already count five of them following behind you, making their way towards you as fast as their rotten legs allow them to and, you have to admit, you're not too comfortable nor too happy about the fact that they're actually moving quite fast... well, at least as fast as you since your wounds slow you down a whole lot, more than you can afford in the situation that you're in.

You do your best to keep your eyes peeled and most importantly; **open** , as you make your way to God knows where, hell, anywhere you could catch a small break and be at least a little bit safe will do. You can't really give yourself the luxury to play difficult at the moment, you never do anyway.

Right now, it's almost been two months since you've ran away from the Sanctuary and no, you don't regret it, at least you try really hard to convince yourself that you don't, that you're happy with the way things are going but, well, it's kinda hard to keep your spirit up when you're bleeding out and there's a bunch of walkers lusting after you for a piece of your flesh.

The last month wasn't really "good" if you're being honest. A lot of things happened and almost all of them caused a fight to erupt between you and Randall. You have to be truthful though, and admit that most of the arguments you two got into was because you would lose your shit over things you weren't supposed to and, more often than not it was because of the smallest of details. Randall didn't understand your outburst so he'd snap back at you and it'd angered you ever further which pissed him off etc, etc.

The first "heated" and, really, the very first, argument you two had was just after Negan radioed you, just after you and Randall hugged each other and apologized for the complicated conversation you two had the very same morning. None of you answered Negan's call because you both knew that that's all he was waiting for, for one of you to actually join in on his stupid, twisted mind game.

After you told Randall not to worry and to just go and grab as much supplies as he could, you took a few seconds to just stand there, looking at the radio sitting right next to the sink in the bathroom, the need you felt to grab it and talk to Negan was way too strong for you to be comfortable so you decided to go and help Randall pack things up.

Everything was going great until you've heard a big crash and you ran to the bathroom where the noise came from and just stood there, breathless from running up the stairs, panic running through your veins as you thought that Randall might have gotten hurt while moving something but nope, he was alright. You weren't though.

When you got to the bathroom, you felt your veins filling up with anger and sadness when you've spotted the small black walkie-talkie smashed to pieces on the ground, there was nothing left of it, nothing but tiny pieces and a cracked battery laying on the tiled floor.

" **W** hat the hell, Randall? What did you fucking do?!" you asked, your hands pulling at the hair at the top of you head.

" **S** mashed the damn thing, [y/n]." he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, -it was-, " **W** e can't let him get any leaverage on us, c'mon."

_he's right..._

" **A** re you fucking stupid?!" you snapped, tears blurring your vision as anger started to slowly eat you alive.

" **W** hat the hell's gotten into you?" he asked as calmly as possible, taking a step towards you, frowning in concern when you took two back, "[ **Y** /n], baby, s'okay. Having this thing around was dangerous you know tha-"

" **W** e could have work things out for fuck's sake! But nooo, you just had to listen to your stupid fears and act like a dumbass! We needed that damn radio, Randall!" you yelled, somehow irritated by his calmness.

You both looked at each other for a while, none of you breaking eye-contact, which, honestly, was surprising coming from you since you never were too good nor comfortable with the whole eye-contact thing. You usually never last more than three seconds and that's the best you ever did so, yeah, that was really intense for you to go through with but you couldn't look away from Randall's eyes, the blue one was a darker shade of blue but the grey one didn't seem to have gotten any darker, it was just dilated like the other.

Eventually, you broke down and cried, knowing damn well that you had no reason whatsoever to snap at him like you did. He'd done the right thing and you knew that but, the fact that the only way for you to communicate with Negan was now completely gone, it just... It didn't feel right, it scared the hell out of you and you felt such a crushing lonely the moment you've spotted the smashed walkie-talkie on the floor of the bathroom that you freaked out. You didn't mean to feel the way you did, it just happened, you just snapped and you immediately regretted it yet, you couldn't stop the words from flowing out of your mouth, you completely lost control for a minute.

" **I** -I'm-I'm sorry, Randall. I didn't-I didn't m-mean to yell a-at you, m'sorry." you'd softly let out, trying really hard to keep your composure after what'd just happened.

" **S** 'okay, sweet pea, s'okay." he said with a small smile, once again forgiving your outburst without a second thought, before taking you into his arms to let you let out the tears that you so badly needed to let go of.

After that, things got back on tracks. You both moved around a lot but you'd always find a place to safely spend the night in, something even a few weeks, you'd find a few supplies here and there every single day but you always reminded Randall to leave some behind for other people that might come after you. He had a bit of a hard time with this specific rule of yours at first but he slowly stopped rambling about how stupid it was when you snapped at him and told him that he was being selfish and that selfishness and greediness were two of the things people don't fucking need in this world.

Sometimes, he would push you around a little and ask you why you snapped the way you did when he broke the radio, you'd always avoided the topic, not wanting to talk about it, but he always pushed that boundary and, eventually, he's pushed it too far, making you snap, which created yet another fight between the two of you.

He'd always apologize after but you got bored of it pretty quickly. You never were here for people who fuck up and apologize later on only to fuck up the exact same thing over and over again. You say no once and that you should've be more than enough for people to shut the fuck up about whatever they want to get out of you, you can't stand this kind of behavior, it's shitty.

You two got in the red for a few weeks after you declined his apology, you would avoid each other as much as possible, you would spend your whole days outside and he would spend his days sleeping and recovering from the wounds Negan inflicted to him.

One night, as you were sleeping peacefully on the couch of a small house you two had found and settled in for the night, you've decided to leave the bed for Randall, knowing that he needed the comfort, which almost made you two argue yet again but your deadly glare quickly made him shut up and take the damn bed, you were woken up by raw coughs and rough grunts and you immediately rushed to Randall, afraid that he might have gotten sick or something, only to find him laying on the floor, on his stomach, clearly trying to get back up.

You remember rushing to him and helping him back on his bed, tears filling your eyes as you spotted the mean looking bruises on his skin, covering his ribs. He thanked you and explained to you that he was trying to get up and go get some water but he fell flat on his ass, he said with a small laugh, and he didn't want to call for you because he didn't want to wake you.

You remember running to the living room and fetching a bottle of water out of your backpack before running back to him, handing him the bottle and letting him drink while you took a close look at his wounds. You touched here and there making him wince a few times but he then told you that he was actually feeling better than he did a few days ago, that he was just really tired and upset that you two seemed to be fighting over the smallest of things only because of your constant fatigue and worries.

You remember climbing in his bed after you've made sure that his ribs weren't actually broken, afraid that you might have overlooked it the first time you've healed his wounds, and snuggled with him under the sheets, the two of you apologizing to one another at the same time, making you both laugh.

And, hell, you remember shyly reaching for his lips before wishing him goodnight, and you sure as shit remember him chuckling and ending up right on top of you, kissing the living hell out of you for good while even though it was over way too soon for your liking.

After that night, you've decided to stick around for a few weeks to give Randall some rest and time to fully recover and things were back to normal the very night morning. The two of you were finally at peace and you finally were able to enjoy each other's company again without starting a fight over a fucking fly. Things were good, being out here was good for you, it was healthy and you felt more comfortable about having someone by your side, you weren't as frustrated or stressed out about it as you used to be, it was good.

But, of course, one day, it went back down real fucking quick. It was a regular day, you were messing around with Randall, cracking stupid jokes and actually having conversations about each other's past all whilst keeping an eye out for walkers as you were walking through what seemed to be an empty city and it was all fun and laughter until you've heard that one voice that you'd been craving to hear but almost pissed your pants when you actually did.

Randall was quick to drag you in a tiny alley with him, hiding the two of you away from Negan and his men's eyesight. You could feel your heart beating in your throat and your stomach doing flips in your tummy. You can't lie, seeing him again did things to you, you don't know **what** things exactly but it was there, you felt it and it pissed you off, it still does. You didn't seem to have any control over it but you didn't really try to make it stop either, you're not sure if you actually wanted it to go away or not, you're lost.

You were crushed between a wall and Randall's body but only he had his back turned to Negan, not you. Nope, you could see him just fine even though he couldn't, well, at least not if he didn't come snooping around.

You remember holding on tightly to one of Randall's hands, trying to breathe properly as you watched every move Negan made. You were so attentive to him, he's all you could freaking see and hear; his voice, his stupid face, just watching him order people around with Lucille laying proudly on his shoulder.

As a matter of fact, you paid some much attention to him that you actually were able to see that his hair were messy and not neatly put into place like they usually would be, that he trimmed his beard and that he wasn't wearing his red scarf, it just- this man does things to you and, even though you don't much care for it, you can't lie, you almost ran back to him right there and then. hell, you know that you would have if it wasn't for Randall's presence keeping you back sane and grounded.

You'd watch his every move, you'd watch his mouth moving as he spoke or more like barked orders around, you'd watch his jaw clenching and un-clenching with anger or stress, you're not sure which, you could even see his shoulders tensing up with every passing minute and you almost whimpered when you saw him taking his black leather jacket off only to carelessly hand it to Dwight. You'd blush when you've recalled wearing one of his white t-shirts and you wondered if it was the exact same that he was wearing at that day or if he just has a bunch of 'em lying in his dresser.

You also remembered how comfortable his jacket was to wear and your breath got caught in your throat when you remembered that he handed it to you because he didn't want you to get cold, you didn't know him that much back then but the gesture meant a lot to you none the less.

After him and his men left, clearly frustrated, Randall finally let go of you and you two ran off, wanting nothing to do with this place anymore now that Negan and his crew came through it. It just didn't feel safe anymore.

To this day, you still wonder if they were out looking for you and you hate to admit that; you hope so because you don't want him to forget about you but you also kind of do? It feels like you're losing your mind and, as much as you want to blame it on the blood that you're losing, you know that you had the exact same thoughts back then so, you can't.

You know that you missing his presence is wrong, really wrong, and pretty unhealthy but you can't help it, you have no control whatsoever over it which happens to be the most frustrating part. You'd say that it upsets you if not for the fact that you've decided that you already have enough to be upset about without adding Negan to the list, no thank you.

A sob escapes you as you look around and realize that you have no idea where the hell you are. You're on a long, crappy road with nothing but cars in sight and the smell of rotting bodies to fill your lungs, you feel like throwing up and you're unsure why, maybe it's all the blood you're losing or maybe it's just the smell of your fresh blood mixing with the smell of death and rotten corpses surrounding you.

" **U** gh, I actually miss the disgusting smell of Simon's cologne right now... This blows." you mumble grumpily, adding more pressure on the bullet wound in your tummy to try and slow, if not stop, the bleeding down as much as you can but blood keeps on pouring through your fingers, still.

You're exhausted, you're covered in blood, your whole body aches and you're in so much pain that it's starting to become unbearable for you. You end up falling on the hard road, crying against the dirt and the concrete as you rest your forehead on the ground and curl yourself up, your hands protecting the bullet wound on your belly as the blood pouring out of the bullet wound on your shoulder slowly starts to drip on to your face and neck.

The weight of your backpack resting on your back is slightly crushing you and it reminds you of one thing; whoever the fuck attacked you wasn't even after your supplies, they were just a bunch of assholes with guns... Like Negan's dogs.

_okay, so... where the hell is Randall and, oh, yeah- why the fuck isn't he with you? did he fucking bail on us?_

" **H** e wou-wouldn't do that to me, he-he wouldn't- he wouldn't do that- he wouldn't." you whisper softly against the ground, trying as hard as you can to reassure yourself, coughing when some dust flies into your mouth and gets caught in your throat, making your eyes tear up.

You hear a few groans around you but, whenever you try to get up, you just keep on falling back down on the ground, making you cry in frustration and panic.

You didn't really plan on getting gutted if you're being honest but, as the seconds past and the groans grow louder and louder, you know. You know that they're right here, a few meters away from your bloody body, hell, you might as well be dead.

You shut your eyes tightly when you spot a walker crawling towards you, a tear followed by a tone of others start to roll down your bloody, mud covered face.

_i don't wanna die, i don't wanna die, i don't wanna die, not like that, please, not like that._

You start sobbing loudly as you feel a hand firmly grabbing one of your thighs, digging its nails into your soft flesh and you actually decide to try and turn around but, either one of them is on top you or your body is just really weaken by the blood loss because, you can't move a fucking muscle to save your life.

" **C** 'mon ju-just do it already you f-freaks." you sob and let out a squeal when you feel one of them breathing right down on your calve, you swear you can feel the very tip of its teeth before everything stops in a heartbeat.

The groans stop and are replaced by gunshots, loud gunshots, a bunch of them. You feel the weight of the now dead bodies laying on your shocked up body and you try to get out from underneath them but you can't move, you're completely paralyzed, all you can do is cry. You don't want to but you clearly need to because you don't seem to be able to stop this train wreck.

" **D** amn it, that was loud." you hear a rough man's voice say your immediately brain freaks out.

" **Y** eah, it was, but we have some time before more of 'em show up just watch our back, yeah?" another says, his soft a little soft, his accent thick but surprisingly pleasant.

" **Y** 'got it, Rick." the first man you've heard says before you hear footsteps approach you.

_who is that? who the hell is rick? what's with today and all the weird shit?_

Your hand weakly goes to grab your butterfly knife which is still tugged away in your waistband before softly snaking out from underneath your injured body only to stop dead in front of your face, your body being too tired to even bring your arm up and protect yourself from whoever these people are.

You see a pair of brown shoes stop right in front of your face and another pair of feet covering by faded brown boots firmly planted right next to the person standing in front of you.

" **Y** ou bit?" the man with the accent asks, his voice sharp but calm.

" **N** -no- I- n-no." you manage to choke out, your head still laying against the concrete.

The person in front of you kneels down, finally letting see his face when you look up and you're unsure of what you feel. He actually looks really damn good, he has dark, brown curly hair, blue eyes and a stubble that clearly isn't being neatly kept, cleaned and groomed like Negan's but it still looks really good.

Your whole body twitches when he roughly moves you around, looking closely for any scratch or bite but, after a while, when he doesn't spot any of this type of wounds on the back of your body, he decides to turn you on your back making you cry out in pain when your wounded shoulder and the exit point on the back of your belly end up hitting the hard ground that you're laying on.

Your bow escapes your backpack and falls on the ground right next to you as Rick takes your knife out of your limp hand, making sure you don't cause any harm to him nor his people.

" **R** ick, if you can move her then do it 'cause we're starting to have some company over here." you hear a female say but you don't see her, hell, you can barely see the man inspecting you and he's right in front of you.

" **H** ow many walkers have you killed?" the man name Rick asks like right now's the best time to have a chat.

_what? dude, dude, listen, dude- i'm dying over here, are you being serious right now?_

" **U** h- I-I dunno- A b-bunch. Too m-many to co-count, sir."

_oooooof course you just said that, of couuuuurse... i'm leaving, you're dying and this is too awkward, even for me._

" **H** ow many people have you killed?"

" **U** -uh- I- E-eighteen, eighteen people, sir."

" **W** hy?" he asks, watching you closely with narrowed eyes as you fight to keep yours open and to keep your heart beating for a little while longer.

" **I** -I had t-to?" you say, unsure if he's looking for a specific answer before taking a deep, shaky breath and looking at the blurry figure standing above you, " **I** -I'm no-not one t-to ask for ch-charity so just l-let me be, pl-please. You don't have t-to kill me, I'll p-probably die on m-my own any-anyway."

" **M** 'not gonna kill you." he says with no emotion showing, at all, before shoving the blade of a huge machete, which you assume belongs to him, right in the middle of a walker's rotten head, making it fall limp on the ground right beside you.

_yeah, sure, don't mind my open wounds and what not... s'cool... totally cool._

In a moment of panic, after witnessing just how easily he handled this huge ass blade, you quickly grab your bow and drag yourself a little bit away from the man and his group, wincing in pain as you do so, and you prop your back up against the side of a car before weakly aiming your bow up at no one in particular, just in their general direction, your wounded shoulder clearly upset with you as you do.

" **W** h-what do you want?" you ask way too shyly to even get close to scaring them in the sightliest.

" **W** here d'you get that bow?" you hear a scruffy voice ask. A scruffy, grumpy voice.

" **S** 'mine." you spit back, watching closely as the man named Rick keeps his hand on top of his Colt which is tugged away in an holster on the side of his hips.

" **L** ike hell it is." you hear the stranger snap but you can't see him, even if you squint your eyes.

" **I** t is! Wh-what's your problem, dude!" you snarl, swallowing tears of pain and panic back and trying to hide the fact that you're fucking terrified right now, " **S** 'all I have- it's all I have left." you whisper more to yourself than to him or them, a tear making a daring escape from your eyes.

Before you know it though, you end up face to face with the sharp end of an arrow, it's right between your eyes. If he takes that shot, he shoots to kill.

" **Y** ou ain't gonna have shit left in a secon' if you keep fuckin' lyin' t'me-"

" **D** aryl, that's enough!" you hear the woman you've heard earlier snap at him to that arrow never leaves your forehead.

_wait, what?_

" **T** hat bow ain't hers to have!" the man barks and you finally muster up the courage to look up at him.

" **D** -Daryl?" you ask, your breath caught in your throat and tears silently falling down your face as you're filled with what might as well be false joy and anxiousness.

The man moves his crossbow out of your face to look at you and his eyebrows furrow for a minute as he just stands there, his feet on either side of your body, his eyes narrowed down at you and, finally, you see his expression softening and you know. You know that you know this man but, then again, maybe your wounds are playing tricks on you. For all you know, you might be having hallucinations as you're just being gutted by a bunch of walkers.

"[ **Y** /n]?" he asks just as intrigued and uncertain as you, though you can't see his hands shaking.

His face looks so familiar but, at the same time, it looks completely foreign. His voice sounds like home but it's also completely unknown to you. The only things that looks really, really familiar are his eyes and the way he speaks, maybe even the frame of his body?

What you do know though is that; the way he said your name is like a slap across the face. It's almost too much for you to take, **it is** too much for you to take and, between your wounds, the throbbing pain you're feeling cursing through your entire body, the exhaustion and now... this, whatever **this** is, you get overwhelmed and end up completely crushed under the pressure of it all.

You start crying your heart out, terror, relief, joy and pain mixing each other up and coming out as a storm of sobs and tears... and a runny nose.

Your body twitches when a pair of hands gently snake beneath your body, one in the middle of your back and the other carefully grabbing the right side of your waist, a hand landing directly on the exit bullet point on the back of your belly and put presure down on it, before you're being softly picked up off the ground. Your head ends up in the crook of the, possibly, stranger's neck and, the second you breath in, you know.

The man smells of sweat, dirt, blood and something else, something that you don't know how to describe, let alone name, but still know all too well, it's the smell you grew up falling asleep wrapped into like a blanket, it's the smell of **home**.

Completely ignoring your pain, you push your head even further in your old friend's neck and weakly get a hold of his jacket with both of your hands, " **D** aryl-Daryl, it hurts."

" **I** got ya, s'okay, s'okay." he says barely above a whisper, trying to figure out what the hell is happening, trying to figure out if he's having some kind of terrifyingly realistic daydream or if you're actually really **here** , **in his arms**... bleeding out and clearly in a lot of pain, " **S** hit, Rick, we gotta take her back." is the last thing you hear clearly before your ears start to ring obnoxiously loud.

His friend silently look over to the rest of the group and they all seem to be as lost as he is but still seem to all be favorable to take you back to wherever they want to take you back to and, before you can even ask yourself if this is really happening, if he's truly right here, with you;  you black out, your eyes buzzing and your eyes still letting out silent tears. 

 

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" **S** o, you gonna tell me who she is or what, Dixon?" Rick asks before sitting down next to Daryl which is sitting right next to the bed you're laying on, his bloody hand holding yours, which is just as bloody.

" **M** erle was- Merle taught her her very first curse word." Daryl says with a small smile, making his friend chuckle, " **A** nd uh, she- I dunno, man, fuck- I thought- That night was fucking insane, y'know? The army was fucking everywhere, shooting people, pretending that they fucking knew what they were doing, that no one had to panic and, shit..." he sighs, looking down at your passed out figure on the bed, "[ **Y** /n], she uh- Well, she's hard headed, y'know? When she's got some' in mind, she always finds a way and- She wanted to get us out of Atlanta, she tried- She knew somethin' wasn't right, y'know? And, shit, she didn't appreciate being lied to so, when she saw that the army was starting to drop fucking napalm all over the fucking city, she decided to bail us out, thing was- Old man Dixon wasn't fucking here so, there she was, telling us to go ahead, that she'll go and get the old man." he lets out a dry chuckle at the memory before clearing his throat and straightening back up in his chair, " **I** told her to stay with us but, hell, she didn't want our poor excuse of a father t'die when he was probably drunk or high while the fucking world was falling apart or whatever. Anyway, she ran back to our house and, shit, we ain't seen her again after that- Hell, I don't even know if she ever made it to our house." he pauses and takes a long look at your bloody face before looking back at Rick, " **I** though, when I joined our lil' group outside of Atlanta- I thought that I might find her 'round the area, looked for her every goddamn day when I was out huntin', couldn't find her though, but, shit- I mean- There she is, m'just pissed I couldn't find her in time, y'know?"

" **I** t ain't your fault, Daryl. Besides, she's alright now, we just gotta keep an eye on her. Denise's here for that, alright?"

" **Y** eah, I know-"

" **Y** 'sure about that? No, 'cause, last time I heard, you didn't want to leave the girl alone with her. So, what's that about?" Rick asks, genuinely curious.

" **I** don't want her to go anywhere, a'right?" Daryl grumpily admits.

" **H** ey," his friend starts, his hand gently patting his tensed up shoulder, "I get it, Daryl, but, if you want her to be safe then you're gonna have to let Denise do her job, alright?"

" **S** he passed out when we were taking that fuckin' bullet out of her fuckin' shoulder and, fuck, I can't fucking stand to see her cry like that and- Fuckin' hell, the fuckin' screams, man."

" **I** know, Daryl, been there." Rick says, finish his sentence quietly, saying it more for himself than directing to Daryl.

" **I** know, man. M'sorry, don't mean t'be a prick or anythin'. I know you and Carl- M'sorry, man, it's just that- I still remember her as a fucking child, y'know? S'hard to just- Get used to the fact that she's all grown an' shit. She don't need nobody, she never did... She was only fifteen when this shit started, man." Daryl sadly whispers, unsure if he's talking to Rick or just reminiscing out loud.

" **T** he bullet's out. Denise stitched her all up, now we just have to keep an eye on her. It'll be fine, Daryl."

" **Y** ou cool with her stickin' around after?" Daryl asks, finally looking up at his friend, hoping to hear exactly what he wants to hear.

" **Y** ou trust her?"

" **I** don't want any of our people in danger, y'know that but, I dunno, man. I don't really know her anymore, y'know? Gotta talk to her and whatnot." he admits with an heavy heart as he realizes that he, indeed, doesn't know who you are, who you've become.

" **T** hen we'll talk to her when she'll wake up and we'll figure thangs out, how d'that sound?"

" **S** 'cool with me. How 'bout the others though?"

" **T** hey're just curious as to who she is to you, s'all. They seem to be sayin' that as long as you trust her then they're cool with her too."

With one last friendly pat on Daryl's shoulder, Rick leaves the room, leaving a passed out you with a really confused Daryl.

 

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**11:00** **PM** **//**

Your eyes flutter open, a sharp pain shooting up through your tummy to your neck, making your body twitch in protest. You let out a small squeal as you carefully sit down on the mattress that you're on, you have no idea where the hell you are but it's neat and way too normal looking for you liking.

You jump slightly on the bed when you spot a man sleeping in a chair right next to your bed, a loaded crossbow laying right below his hand, reaching for use. You also spot your backpack propped against a wall on the other side of the room, it's open but, at least, you see that your bow is still in it so you know that they didn't take it.

You carefully look at the man sleeping next to you. You know who he is but you're terrified at the idea of all of this being a fever dream, of him not being real and you won't be able to deal with that, you just know it.

You want to be happy, scream in joy, hug him, kiss his face, tell him just how much you've been missing him, how worried you were but you can't, you're scared. What if he isn't really here? What if today is just some weird, twisted, dream. And even if he really is there, maybe he's changed so much that he won't be anything like the Daryl you grew up around and that scares you more than to possibility of this being a dream because it'll like having him back but not really, like he's right here but he's not?

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest when you snap out of your thoughts only to realize that Daryl is now fully awake, looking straight at you, clearly as confused as you are.

" **Y** -you-You're here, th-that's you- Y-you're real? I- Pl-please-" you mumble in a word-vomit, confused and shaking in fear, looking at him as if he'll vanish if you so much as blink and you're not willing to take that risk.

" **M** 'here, I'm here." he whispers before carefully taking your shaking hands in one of his, " **W** e're both here, s'okay."

" **I** -I mi-missed you s-so-so mu-much and- and I thought that- I thought that I-"

You can't bring yourself to form a proper sentence, it's all too much for you to handle as your eyes stay glued to his hand completely engulfing both of yours. But, then, Daryl does the one thing you really badly needed him to do, he stands up and softly wraps his arms around your shaking frame, resting his forehead on top of your head, breathing in the scent laying in your hair. He's always said that you have that one spot he loved on top of your head because it always smells like you no matter what and it usually made you laugh or blush but, this time, it makes you cry.

Being in his arms is something you needed, something you've missed for so, so long, it's about damn time you got him back. Him hugging you, that's what you needed to know that this isn't some weird, hurtful dream that you'll wake up crying your heart from, you won't have to.

" **I** missed you too." he whispers on top of your head before tightening his grip on you, " **W** here the hell have ya been?"

" **A** -all over the pl-place." you say with a shaky giggle, making him chuckle softly in your hair, " **H** o-how about y-you?"

" **W** ell," he sighs before letting go of you and sitting back down next to your bed, facing you, and you have to stop a whine of disapproval when his familiar warmth and smell leave you, "all over the place's a good way to put it, actually."

You take a good long look at him; his hair grew and it seems like they're taking control over his face but you really like it, he has a stubble and he looks like he could use some more sleep.

" **W** hat the hell happened to ya?" he asks, snapping you out of your contemplation.

" **I** -I d-don't know, I go-got shot an-and my fr-friend's mi-missing and I don't know wh-where he went o-or- or if-" you take a moment to come to term with the fact that Randall might not be alive anymore, you don't want to think about it but now that's all you can think of, " **I** don't know if-if he's still alive o-or not, Daryl."

" **M** 'sorry, [y/n] but- I mean- You can stay here, with us- with me?"

" **D** aryl-" you start, about to tell him that that's not what you do, how you live but he's quick to cut you off.

" **T** hey good people, they are. They're my family and- so are you." he audibly swallows the lump stuck in his throat, " **I** don't wanna lose you again."

" **W** ait-" you start, finding something wrong with what he just said, " **W** h-what about Merle? Where-where is he?" you carefully watch Daryl and see his face dropping slightly and you know. Of course you know, " **P** lease- No, he's not- How?"

" **H** e wanted to be the good guy for once." is all Daryl says, leaving you to imagine what went down.

" **W** hat happened to you? I mean- Y'know- There's a bunch of crazy people out there nowadays- D'you ever get into trouble?" you ask, trying to keep yourself from dwelling on the fact that Merle is gone, your mind refusing to process the information anyways.

" **W** e did, a whole bunch o' times but- We fought through and we got out of it, lost some real good folks on the way, too."

" **I** 'm sorry. I'm sorry about them and I'm sorry about M-Merle." you say before letting a soft giggle out, making Daryl's head snap up to look at you, " **I** love it. I love hearing you say "we"." you admit with a tired smile and a slight shrug, " **Y** ou to be surrounded by good people, you deserve it, Daryl, and I'm so glad that you seem to have find them. I'm happy that you have your own little family, Daryl, I really am."

" **Y** 'could be a part of that, ya know."

" **I** 'll pay my debt, your people saved my life and I'll pull my weight around to help get back the supplies you've lost on me-"

" **T** hey ain't lost, [y/n]-"

" **D** aryl, please, just let me have that, please?" you cut him off, your eyes screwed shut and a frown making your forehead wrinkle, " **L** et me help your people out, I can pull my weight, I swear."

" **T** hen what, uh? You just gonna leave? You gonna leave me again? What makes ya think I'm okay with that shit?" he lowly snarls out.

" **I** 'm not asking you to be okay with it, Dixon!" you snap, your fatigue and your wounds making it hard for you to have much patience at the moment.

He's about to spit something back at you when he spots blood soaking up the sheets of his bed and he understands that you're outburst must have broken the stitches on your belly. He's quick to get to you and softly tells you to lay back down before shoving the sheets off of your body, you're fully clothed yet you're freezing the second the warm blankets leave you.

He calmly applies pressure on the re-opened wound, clumsily grabbing a gauze Denise gave him just in case before replacing his hand with the medical tissue.

" **I** -I'm sorry-"

" **R** emember that time when I got into an accident with Merle's bike?" he quietly asks you and you silently nod, " **I** was fucking terrible to you. Was always declining your help, always snappin' at ya 'cause I wanted to do things by myself even though I couldn't fuckin' move a muscle after the accident. I forced it on ya to take of me and patch me up that night 'cause I didn't wanna go to the fuckin' hospital like a normal fuckin' person... I was fucking terrible yet, you never gave it up. You'd tell me to shut up, suck it up and let things go for once. You didn't give up on my sorry ass because you cared... M'not about to give up on your hard headed ass either." he says, his eyes focused on the hand he's using to put pressure on your wound with, " **I** don't care how many fights we'll get in, I don't give a shit 'cause that's how it's gonna be from now on, you gon' have to learn to let things go, [y/n]."

" **H** ave you?" you ask in a hushed whisper before biting down on your lower lip, trying not to move around too much whilst he takes care of your wound but it hurts like a bitch on steroids.

" **Y** eah, but I didn't do it all on my own, y'know? Rick helped with that, the others too."

" **R** ick? Isn't he the guy with the machete?"

" **Y** eah, s'him. He has to be the closet friend I ever had. I trust him, no doubt and you should too, he's a good man just don't fuck with his family, s'dangerous."

" **Y** eah, well, you do what you gotta do- Ouch, okay, that fucking hurts!"

" **M** 'sorry, sorry." he quickly apologizes, putting his hand away but letting the gauze soak up the blood pouring out of your freshly re-opened wound.

" **S** 'okay, I'm alright. I'm sorry if I scared you, it just- It really hurts." you admit, swallowing your tears back, " **A** nyways-" you pause to clear your throat, " **W** hen will I get to meet him? I m-mean- you know, I'd like t-to say th-thank you, he did save my life a-after all."

" **Y** ou'll see him t'morrow, alright? For now, get some sleep." he says as he carefully bandages your wound, hoping that it'll do the trick at least until tomorrow, then it'll be for Denise to handle.

" **W** here am I, by the way?" you ask, squinting as you look around the room, the only source of light being the lamp on the nightstand to the left of the bed you're in. The windows are covered by thick curtains but there's no sunlight coming out from underneath the fabric so you assume it must the middle of the night.

" **A** lexandria." Daryl says and he chuckles when you look back at him with a confused frown and ask him, " **W** hat d'you call me?"

" **S** 'where we live, it's safe, you're safe." he finishes with a tired smile, amused by your antics and relieved to see that, so far, it doesn't seem as if the world's took a toll on you. Though, he can't lie, there's sorrow in your eyes that he's never seen before and God knows he's seen you in very, very dark and dangerous places back in the days and that kind of scares and worries him.

" **W** -what is this room? S'huge." you ask, looking around before letting out a yawn.

" **S** 'my bedroom, never use it though, I'm better off on the couch."

" **N** ice, I'm stealing your bed. How cool of me, ugh, I feel like a prick now."

" **S** hut up and sleep, [y/n]." he says with a small chuckle.

" **Y** -you-you sh-shut up- you-" you don't even get to finish your sentence when you heavily doze back off to sleep, making Daryl smile and shake his head. You always have to talk back even when you're about to pass out and it's so familiar to him that it makes him happy.

He softly puts his arm right beside you on the mattress before dropping his head on his forearm and carefully grabs your hand in his before slowly falling asleep.

 

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 **8:00** **AM** **//** **SANCTUARY** **//**

" **A** lright, alright... Let me get this shit straight, Randy boy. Not only did you fucking run off with my girl but now, I learn that you fucking shot one of my men?" Negan snarls with a mean grin as he watches Randall squirm around in pain on the hard ground of his cell, " **H** ow fucking stupid are you? And for what, uh? You really believe that she gives a shit about ya? S'that it?" he taunts, his voice deeper and darker than it naturally already is, as he kneels down in front of Randall, " **N** ah, y'see, my lil' baby ran off to get her daddy's attention and oh boy, did it fuckin' work." he spits out, clearly getting angry at the fact that his men brought back Randall but **you** 're still nowhere to be found.

" **T** -they shot her, you fucking dick! What th-the hell was I su-supposed to do, uh?" Randall angrily spits as he recalls watching you fall on the ground after the second bullet hit you, he tried to run to you but got knocked out and dragged back to the Sanctuary.

" **E** x-fucking-cuse me, young man? What the fuck did you just say?" Negan asks, you getting shot clearly being brand fucking news to him.

" **T** hey shot her! They wanted t-to take her shit and she got fucking shot! S'not my fault they fucking left her out there to fucking die! I swear to God if she dies because of her wounds-"

" **Y** ou'll what, uh? Y'really believe in that stupid lil' fucking head of yours that I'd actually order my men to fucking harm her? Who the fuck do you think you are, Randy boy?"

" **I** kissed her, didn't happen just once, kinda became a thing- I don't fucking know what the hell happened-" the tattooed man confessed out of the blue, no longer carrying about the consequences.

" **O** h boy, you betta be fuckin' joking." Negan says with a cold chuckle, clearly not okay with the idea of his baby kissing anyone but him and him alone.

" **S** top actin' like you give a shit about her, if you did- if you did you'd have get rid of your cheap bitches a while ago. I told ya, she deserves better-"

" **A** nd y'think you're it? S'that it? Oh man, what would I give to fucking bash your fucking head in, Randy boy."

" **W** hy don't you just do it then, uh? I mean, at least I'll be out of the picture for good, right? You'll have her all to yourself for a lil' while until she finds someone to talk to and, because she is who she fucking is, whoever she'll befriend is gonna start to see her as more than a friend, then what? You'll get that person too? And so, what? In the end, she'll hate you all the more for it- That's why you don't kill me, right? 'Cause there's no fucking point."

" **Y** ou are just too damn adorable, y'know that?" Negan says with a laugh before kneeling further down to face Randall, " **T** he reason why I don't kill you yet is because I want her to fuckin' be there when it happens. Actually, I've been wonderin' if she won't be the one putting your sorry ass down. I dunno, I really fuckin' like to watch her go to work with Lucille, s'fucking hot." he finishes his sentence and immediately leaves Randall's small cell before whistling down the halls, leaving as a bunch of his men get inside the cell to beat an already beaten up Randall further.

Negan gets through the whole compound, his workers kneeling down as he passes by, making his way through until he reaches the floor Dwight and Simon, and now Faith, all live on. He pushes the door open and directly goes to the break room where he knows the trio spend most of their free time in and, of course, he finds them all here, playing pool and cracking jokes.

" **H** ow you feeling, dickheads?" he asks with a smirk, his voice way lighter than it was a few seconds ago when he was with Randall.

" **D** id they find her? Is she alright?" Faith asks in a hurry, eager to know if you're back and, most importantly, if you're **safe**.

" **O** h, they found her alright but, guess what? They only brought Randy boy back."

" **W** ait- What?" Simon asks, clearly confused since the order clearly was to bring **_you_ ** home first and foremost and do it without harming you.

" **Y** eah, sending those useless pricks out there without supervision was fucking stupid and they ended up shooting my girl-"

" **W** hat the hell!?" Faith interrupts, clearly upset with the outcome of the search, " **W** hat the hell is wrong with these fucking idiots?!"

" **I** don't fucking know but they're about to fucking find out that their goddamn actions have consequences and they have really fuckin' bad consequences when it comes to harming my girl." he pauses and tilts his head to the side with a smirk, " **S** 'a new rule."

" **S** o, now what?" Dwight asks, unsure of where this is going.

" **Y** ou're all coming with me downstairs. Dwight you get the iron balls-hot, Simon you go and get these five fucking idiots and Faith you're coming with me, we gotta talk real quick before though."

After Negan gave his orders, Dwight and Simon both exit the room, leaving Faith and the leader of the Saviors together.

" **W** hat's going on?" she asks, curious to know what's on the man's mind.

" **M** 'sorry." he says, looking at her with a slight smirk on his lips when he catches the confusion on her face.

" **W** ha-"

" **S** 'been two month now. Shouldn't have said what I fucking said t'you, that was fucked up even for me so, yeah, I'm sorry."

" **I** \- I uh- Thank you, Negan. I appreciate that." Faith softly says with a small nod of her head which Negan gives back.

" **Y** 'got it." he says before tapping her shoulder, silently telling her to follow him downstairs to do what needs to be done, " **I** 'm gonna kill one of them, just so you know- Or two, whoever shot her, he dies in a few minutes."

" **N** egan, hold up-" she says, carefully grabbing his forearm for him to stop moving and, when he does, he turns back to look at her before giving a sharp nod her for her to say what she has to say, " **W** hat if- What if she's already gone? I mean, I don't want to think about that shit but- She got shot, Negan, and we don't know how bad-"

" **S** he's a tough lil' cookie, no matter how soft she gets when you take a bite. She'll pull through."

" **A** lright- Alright but- What if someone took her? What happens, then?"

" **A** whole bunch of people are gonna die, Faith, that what'll happen. Now, can we get a fucking move on and finish this shit already?"

" **W** hat if she doesn't want to come back?" Faith adds making Negan jaw clench violently.

" **F** aith, I just fucking apologized to you, don't give me another reason to have to do that shit again, we clear?"

" **C** rystal clear." she says, for once actually afraid of him, his voice dropped so low and his eyes got darker way quicker than she ever recall them doing so.

Maybe- Maybe you don't want to be here and, yeah, maybe he knows that but, maybe, _just maybe_ , he wants to ignore it and get you back no matter what it means. If he has to fucking chain you up, he will. If he has to keep running after you, he will and if it means that he's gonna have to change some shit then, fuck it, **he fucking will**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEEEEEERE! THE OFC AND DARYL HAVE BEEN REUNITED, YOU HAPPY NOW? UH? ARE YOU? ARE YOU?? JUST SO YOU KNOW, ABRAHAM, GLENN AND DENISE WILL NOT, I REPEAT, THEY WILL NOT FUCKING DIE, NOT ON MY WATCH, FUCK THE SHOW, THIS IS MY TIME TO SHINE AND PROTECT MY BABIES, MY SMOL, FRAGILE BABIES! LEAVE ME ALONE.
> 
> AGAIN I'M SORRY, I KNOW THIS IS SUPER LATE, I'M SOOOOOOOORRY.  
> Alright, so, how are you lil angels? I hope you're all doing amazing and that you're all having a great day/night, I dunno, depends where you live and all.
> 
> ANYWAY! As I said at the start, this chapter is late because of, well, "personal" problems... I guess? I dunno, listen, betch, listeeeen! My A.D.D was giving me such a hard time which made my alright critically low self-esteem drop through the floor, yes, THROUGH the freaking floor, there's no floor there anymore, I broke it. Seriously though, it made it really hard for me to write or even talk to people without feeling terribly stupid or like what I was saying or writing wasn't making any kind of sense whatsoever, so, yeah, really bad weeks to go through, but, hey, I've pulled through it though, so, yaaay (?) I dunno.
> 
> Afterwards, my birthday came up to ruin things a little further 'cause why no, right? I know, birthdays are supposed to be super cool days, super fun and blah blah blaaaaaah but, hey, me being me, this rule doesn't seem to be my friend, at all. Anyway, my birthday's always a hard day to go through and, hell, the days before are hell too, so, yay, horay for me, I'm a completely dysfunctional human being.
> 
> To finish, I just want to say thank you, so, so, so much. You guys are just so freaking kind and sweet and patient and adorable and uuuugh, I luuuuuuv you!  
> Also, 'cause it's important, please, forgive me if you spot some terrible, cringey as all balls, misspelled crap in there, my attention spam is still pretty fucked up (that's A.D.D for ya, you're welcome, I'm now a professor, yes, indeed, thank you, I know, I THE BEST) but, yeah, I really tried but, yeah, I probably failed, let's be real here for a second, ahahaAHAHA... I'm terrible.
> 
> ANYWAY! A always, I love you all a whole bunch, stay safe, pretty please, okay? I love you and I'll kick your ass if you don't treat yourself right, watch out.
> 
> ALSO, YEAH, I WILL BE POSTING NEXT WEEK, THAT MUCH I KNOW, IT'S, LIKE, A FACT. BECAUSE, I KNOW THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT SO I WANNA GIVE YOU THE REST REAL QUICK... NOT ON MONDAY THOUGH, FUCK OFF, I CAN'T DO THAT, DON'T EVEN ASK ME TO TRY COS I'LL CRY.


	20. Thorns covering her skin //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meh, this is just like me; completely shit.  
> I'm gonna go live in a hole, okay, bye.  
> feel free to throw knifes at me.  
> s'okay.

** 9:00 AM // ALEXANDRIA //**

You're lost, in pain, sore and seriously confused but you can't deny that one thing; seeing people walking around, smiling and waving at each other, helping each other out, hugging each other good morning and genuinely care and love for one another is such a heart warming feeling just as much as it is unsettling to you.

You woke up alone in Daryl's bedroom, your right shoulder clearly still holding a grudge and your belly throbbing in discomfort but you've managed to get out of bed and dragged yourself up to one of the big windows in the Daryl's bedroom to sit on the comfortable built-in bench right below it and silently started watching people go about their day.

It's weird to you to see so many people living in peace with each other, treating each other with respect, genuinely loving and caring for each other, it's what you've been craving ever since your father passed but it's also something that scares the crap out of you **after** what happened when your father passed.

When you live in pure chaos and constant fear, what can people possibly take from you? **Nothing** , nothing at all. You don't have to fear that you'll lose something good because you don't **have** anything good to lose. That's how you work, that's how your mind had to function to protect you when you were younger and it just stayed with you ever since. It's still here because, not only is it really hard to let go of that kind of mechanism, especially when its original purpose was to protect you, but also because you're afraid to let go of it. You're not sure if you want to let go of it, not yet anyway.

You let out a shaky sigh and let your head drop to look down at your hands before you start to nervously pull on your fingers.

_do not..._

You can't help it, in a matter of seconds, you start to regret being here. You regret reuniting with Daryl, you regret not dying the day before. You're in pain, not just a physical one, but in a physiological one, one that cuts so deep and hurts so bad that you end up forcing a smile and repeating that everything is okay to yourself because you're scared shitless of this pain.

You hate it. You hate it because you have absolutely no control over it, it's there and it won't go away until it's been heard and felt accordingly. Thing is, you're just as hardheaded as your emotions, they want to be felt but you don't want anything to do with them so you end up being stuck with a frustrated and angry mind and, in the meantime, you're stuck feeling completely numb, smiling pointlessly to try not to break down, your pain increasing with each passing day but you can't help it. You're scared and you don't know how else to deal with this situation, you're not even sure if you ever felt an emotion properly, like "normal" people seem to be able to.

" **K** nock, knock?" you hear a gentle voice call out from behind you, making you snap out of your thoughts and you're kind of thankful that this lady came in because you were way too close to tears for your liking.

" **H** ello?" you greet slash ask, not knowing who the person in front of you is.

" **H** i, I uh- I'm Denise and uh- This is Tara." the lady says, pointing at a dark haired woman standing right behind her.

"[ **Y** /n], t-thank you by the way- for yesterday?" you shyly thank her as you recall Daryl talking about a lady named Denise at some point and you're pretty sure that he mentioned her being the person who fixed you up.

" **O** h, well, y-you're welcome." she answers with a smile before walking towards you, " **H** ow are you feeling today?"

" **M** 'sore, my-my shoulder hurts a little."

_a little? are you fucking kidding me? this is fucking agony, what the fuck? fucking tell her! tell her that we're suffering like a motherfucker for fuck's sake!_

" **Y** eah, the bullet that was shot in your shoulder actually moved a bone back slightly but, well-"

" **D** aryl didn't want to let her finish the job after she was done pulling that bullet out of you." the woman named Tara finishes with a sly smile, clearly amused by Daryl's behavior and you kinda wish that you could remember any of it, but you can't.

" **O** h? I-I'm sorry."

" **D** on't be, sweetheart, you were waaay pasted the hell out." Tara adds with a sympathetic but amused tone in her voice.

_i like that one._

" **S** -so you-you-" you pause and swallow your nerves, " **W** e're gonna have t-to put the bone ba-back into place is what you're saying?"

" **Y** eah, I know it sucks but it has to be done, otherwise, you won't be able to fully recover and- Well-" Denise stops mid-sentence with a small sigh.

" **W** h-what is it?"

" **I** can't say for sure but, you probably will have a really hard time getting proper movement back on this arm. You'll get it back eventually but, well, it might take some time, so, just be patient and gentle."

" **O** -okay."

_well, this is bad... i mean, sure, you weren't just gonna get all better with a snap of your fingers but... shit, how long is this gonna take? we fucking need that arm, we aim with this arm, it's, like, our fucking arm, dude._

You chat for a little while, long enough to understand that the two girls are in a relationship, long enough to see that they're both adorable yet Tara isn't to be fucked with, long enough to know that you'll have a really hard time walking away from those people if you stick around for too long. Also, long enough for Denise to ask you to lay down on Daryl's bed for her to finish what she'd started yesterday and, oh boy, was that a hard moment for you to be alive.

The moment she laid her hands on your arm, you knew. Hell, she knew as well, the look she gave you was full of silent apologies and compassion yet it didn't really help to make you ignore the pain when she gently yet firmly started to pull your arm down to quickly and swiftly push it back up, a disgusting cracking sound making it's way through your ears and through your sobs of pain.

You take a deep breath once she tells you that she's done, nodding your head as she keeps on apologizing before you finally gather the courage to sit on the bed, letting your feet dangle down from the mattress, only the tip of your toes touching the wooden floor beneath you, " **T** hank you." you quietly thank her with a tired smile, though your shoulder is throbbing like a bitch, you can't deny that you feel way more comfortable now that your dislocated bone has been pushed back into it's original place.

" **Y** ou're welcome. Again, I'm sorry."

" **D** -don't be, you- I couldn't have done that by myself, at least, not-not without making it twice as painful, already done it and t'sucked some major ass." you explain, cracking a small smile when Denise softly laughs at your words before covering her mouth and apologizing under her girlfriend's amused stare.

" **H** ow long have you-" Tara starts but is interrupted.

" **E** verything okay?" you hear a familiar yet completely foreign voice ask before looking up and spotting who you remember to be Rick standing in the doorway, looking at you then at the girls standing in front of you.

You were probably screaming way louder than you actually thought you were and he must have heard you and thought that something was wrong. You feel your cheeks heating up at the idea of everyone being able to hear your cries of pain.

" **Y** up, Denise just finished fixing the girl up, s'all good Rick." Tara exclaims, her voice chipper.

" **I** 'm gonna keep an eye on her though." Denise says more seriously, gently looking at you then turning to Rick, " **R** ick, can I get a word with you, please?"

" **S** ure, Tara-"

" **K** eep an eye on her, I got it." the bubbly brunette finishes for him, making him chuckle and shake his head.

" **T** hanks." he says with the same sly smile as her before walking out of the room with Tara's girlfriend.

The two of you awkwardly look at each other, not sure of what to say, her being unsure if she can actually trust you and you being unsure if you're actually really welcome here or if you're only still here because of Daryl.

_well, ain't this is just terribly awkward..._

 

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" **S** o, how's she looking?" Rick asks as he leans against a wall on the porch of Daryl's house, Denise standing in front of him.

" **W** ell, not too good if I'm being honest. I mean, she'll get through it y'know? But- Well, she won't be able to use her right arm nor even her right hand for a while and I mean a  **good** while, Rick."

" **A** lright, okay." he lets out with a sigh, frowning slightly as he processes the information, " **D** 'you talk to her? D'you know anything about her? I'm gonna talk to her but I think it'll be good to know what you guys think as well, y'know?"

" **I** did- I did talk to her and, I mean, honestly? She seems like a really sweet girl but, you know, maybe my judgement is clouded because she's really vulnerable at the moment, so, I-I don't know, Rick. I just- I wouldn't be against her sticking around, I don't know it's just- I know it's stupid but- I don't feel like she'll be one to put us in danger, y'know? I don't know though, I don't know." Denise lets out a deep sigh, clearly unsure about this whole situation.

" **Y** eah... Me neither." Rick admits with a huff, clearly conflicted.

" **S** o, uh, how's Carl?" the blond woman asks with a small smile, trying to bounce back from the previous conversation and also concerned for Rick's son.

" **H** e's good, s'good it's just- He's trying to, y'know, adjust. He just gets frustrated really quickly so... Yeah, it's gonna take some time."

" **W** ell, I know he'll get there, he's been through the hardest part. He'll get there, I know he will." Denise reassuringly says, getting a smile from Rick.

" **T** hank you, really. I could never repay you for saving his life, just- Thank you."

" **D** on't mention it, I'm just glad he's safe now."

" **A** nything new with the girl?" Michonne interrupts as she walks towards Denise and Rick and climbs the small steps leading up to the porch.

" **N** ah, not really." Alexandria's leader admits, smiling when Michonne leans on the wall right by his side.

" **O** kay, well, I'm gonna go if you could just- Send Tara back to me, please? I'll appreciate it." Denise shyly says before leaving the two together and going back to where she feels the more at home; the infirmary.

" **D** id I say something wrong?" Michonne asks, confused as to why Denise would just leave like that as soon as she arrived, making Rick laugh.

" **Y** eah, I definitely think that you offended her or somethin'." he teases with a smirk.

" **S** hut up." she says with a small laugh before giving Rick quick but tender kiss on the lips, " **H** ow are you?"

" **M** 'good, just, y'know-"

" **Y** ou don't know what to think of her, s'that it?" Michonne asks with a cocked up eyebrow, " **A** nd you feel bad because Daryl clearly cares about her while you're here, not sure if you can trust her to be around your family?"

" **Y** eah, somethin' like that, yeah... How are you, though?"

" **I** 'm alright, Rick." she starts, framing her boyfriend's head with her hands, " **L** isten, we do what we always do, we talk to her and then we decide. I know Daryl is clearly attached to her but, Rick, she might have changed, a lot. We both know that that's what most people do and some of them only change for the very worst so, yes, you have the perfect right to have your guards up around her, for now at least. If we decide to keep her around, you're gonna have to relax and really give her a chance though, alright?"

" **I** love you. I love every single person inside these walls and- You and Carl I can't- I can't risk to have you in danger and I- I love you and-"

" **I** love you too, Rick. Relax, it's okay, we're okay." Michonne softly says before taking Rick into her arms, " **I** don't think she's a threat and I won't let her become one. I won't allow her to hurt us, Rick, and I know that you won't either, I know that, we both do."

The couple is so busy getting lost in each other that they don't even see you walking out of Daryl's house with Tara's help, that's until you let out a painful whine. Their heads snap up at the same time and their eyes fall on you before Rick' hands reach out to help support you, making your whole body twitch at the unfamiliar contact.

" **I** got her." Rick says as he gets a steady hand on your back and another on your unharmed shoulder, " **D** enise's told me to send you to her. She's at the infirmary."

" **W** hat a surprise." Tara says with a smile before looking at you, " **Y** ou'll be okay?" she asks you in a whisper.

" **Y** -yeah." you say with a small smile, " **T** h-thank you, Tara."

" **N** o problem, t'was really cool talking to you." she says before gently letting go of you, letting you lean against Rick involuntarily, your body being too tired to stand on its own at the moment.

" **S** h-shoot, I'm s-sorry." you quickly apologize and try to push yourself off but Rick gives a firm hold on you.

" **H** ey, s'okay. Here, sit down." he says before guiding you to a big bench on the porch, gently helping you sit down on it, " **T** here, you okay?" he asks, looking down at you as he stands tall above you, his frame looming over you.

" **Y** -yes, thank y-you, sir."

" **R** ick, Rick Grimes." he says with a grin, finding your politeness odd but ridiculously adorable.

"[ **Y** /n]." you introduce yourself in a whisper, looking down at your hands.

" **H** i, [y/n], I'm Michonne." the lady you've heard back on the road yesterday introduces herself next and you look up at her, your eyes widening a little at the pretty woman standing a few feet away from you.

" **H** -hello." you shyly say before waving at the woman just as shyly.

" **A** lright, well, I'm gonna leave you two to talk, I'll see you later." she says before walking away, leaving you with Rick, silence quickly taking over.

_this is so aaaawkward! why? why is this a thing?_

" **Y** ou got a group?" he asks before leaning against the low railing of the porch, looking at you with interest and... maybe caution? You're not completely sure though you wouldn't blame him for it.

" **I** had- I've been in groups before, i-it didn't work out though so-"

" **W** hat happened?"

" **W** hat always happens I guess-" you pause to look at him, immediately regretting it because his gaze only makes you even more nervous, " **I** just- They- People died and I-I guess that's when it a-all went down-downhill, it-it's just- that's what always happens, you know?"

" **D** o you have a group right now?"

" **N** -no, just- Just a friend but- He- He's gone."

" **I** s he dead?"

" **I** dunno... I hope n-not, I d-don't know." you admit in a whisper, your heart aching at the thought of Randall roaming around out there with **them**.

" **S** o, it was just the two of you?"

" **Y** -yes, sir- Rick, sorry."

" **O** kay... Okay." he says with a sigh, clearly unsure of where this is going, where it's gonna end up.

" **Y** -you don't have t-to keep me around you-you know?" you nervously say making Rick shoot a confused look at you, " **Y** e-yeah, I mean... I kn-know Daryl- I **knew** Daryl b-but- If you don't trust me, I-I completely get it. You gotta do what's b-best for the people you love, that-that's what it should always be about."

Rick actually takes a moment to think what you just said through. He honestly didn't expect that from you, he expected more of a "I'm Daryl's friend you can't kick me out, fuck you" kind of scenario, " **H** ow old are you?"

" **E** -eighteen, sir."

" **A** nd you've been out there all by yourself?"

" **Y** -yes, sir, I mean- It's n-not that bad. I-I actually like b-being alone, it's easier."

" **A** nything else you wanna tell me? If there's something else, something you're hiding from me-"

" **T** here's o-one thing but- I gotta tell e-everyone, n-not just you, then you can decide wha-what to do with me." you admit with a slight frown, lost in thoughts, " **S** 'important th-that you know. I-I can't hide that from you if-if you're gonna let s-stick around, it-it'll be unfair."

" **S** ure, alright. I'm gonna talk to everyone and uh- You see the church down the street?" he asks, pointing at a small church at the very end of the block Daryl lives on and you nod your head before watching him look down at his watch, scratching his strong stubble and you notice just how bruised and damaged his knuckles are, **"I** t's nine past fifteen... Let's say you meet us there at half past ten."

" **O** -Okay, yes. Thank you."

" **I** really hope you know what you're doing, [y/n]." is all he says before walking away, leaving you sitting on Daryl's porch, unsure of what to do or even think.

_me too..._

 

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**FLASH-FORWARD** **//** **TWO WEEKS LATER** **//  SPOILERS FOR THE UPCOMING CHAPTER, YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO. THIS EXACT SAME SCENE WILL BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER //**

_" **G** o ahead, doll, fucking snap, I know you need to. You've got so much fuckin' anger in your lil' body, you gotta let that shit out, s'unhealthy to keep it in, baby." Negan taunts as he carefully watches your every move._

_fuck off! stop talking, just, shut.the.fuck.up! i fucking hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you with every single fiber of my fucked up being!_

_" **M** 'not like you! I can actually control my anger, Negan." you snarl, lying through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw._

_" **O** h yeah? You're too fucking adorable, princess." he keeps on taunting, getting on your nerves even further, " **Y** ou're covered in guts and blood, completely out of breath, looking sexy as ever and, oh, what's that in your pretty lil' hand? Yeah, s'Lucille." he chuckles as your stance goes from tensed to about to fucking explode, " **Y** ou just bashed, what? At least thirty walkers' heads in. For what, uh? I'm gonna tell you what for, baby." he closes the gap between the two of you and you don't move a single inch even as he presses his lips right against your ear, " **I** t's because you're fucking pissed. You're pissed beyond fucking belief and you don't fucking know how to fucking deal with it, don't ya? You're angry. Yeah, you're real fucking angry, aren't ya? And you're scared of that, right? You're scared of the things you might do? Is that it, baby girl? Are you afraid that you might hurt someone? Or are you just gonna keep it all bottled inside your pretty lil' mind and let it all out on your own goddamn self later on? Is that the fucking plan? Go home and cut yourself? Y'know it's not fucking happening, right, baby?"_

_" **S** -stop ta-talking, Negan." you snarl out clenching your jaw some more though you're slowly losing your bite, and it almost feels like your teeth are all gonna break under the pressure you're putting them under, your small hands closing into white-knuckled fists and your eyes filling with tears of frustration, anger and sadness._

_It feels like your mind just shut down, your ears are buzzing loud enough to be obnoxious but not loud enough to cover Negan's voice and words up. Your face, your hands, your cleavage, your entire goddamn body as well as your clothes are soaking in blood, fresh blood, and pieces of flesh._

_" **L** et it out, [y/n]." he insists, his voice still right into your ear like a mean devil on your shoulder, " **C** 'mon, princess, let it the fuck out. Do it." he orders once before stepping away from you, " **D** o it right fucking now! Don't make me fucking repeat my goddamn self, just fucking snap already!"_

_" **S** hut up! Shut the fuck up!" and, just like that, he wins, **again** , " **W** hy can't you just leave me alone! What did I ever do to you? You have a fucking harem, ain't that fucking enough?!" you cry out in anger, hot tears streaming down your face and washing some of the blood off on their way down, " **I** 'm so sick and tired of your shit, Negan! I'm sick of your fucking attitude and I'm sick-I-I'm sick of you! I hate you so fucking much, I didn't even know that I could ever hate someone like I hate you! I was happy! I was fucking happy and you took that away from me!" your grip around Lucille tightens under Negan's watchful stare, " **W** ho gave you the fucking right to take away the only good thing that ever fucking happened to me?! Who the fuck gave you the fucking right, Negan? I was fucking happy! I was-" and that's when the fight slowly starts to drain out of you, " **I** was happy and you- you just- you just had to ruin it all, didn't you? I don't- I can't- It hurts, it hurts so bad, Negan." something in your mind seems to have completely blown and, before you can comprehend why, you start to bring Lucille down on a poor abandoned car that didn't ask for anything yet is still gonna be the victim of your anger and sadness today, " **I** t fucking hurts!" you scream out as you smash the car's windshield to pieces, " **I** hate you, you're a fucking terrible person and I'm fucking stupid! I fucking hate me too! I'm such a fucking moron, I can't fucking understand it- I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate **you**!" you say all while violently destroying the car in front of you, " **F** ucking hell! I hate you, Negan! I hate you with every fiber of my fucking being! There's nothing good about you and I hate you!" you slowly stop beating what's left of the poor car in front of you, your right shoulder making you pay for using it the way you just did, it hurts like a big ol' bitch but you can't let him know that, not right now._

_You don't even know how because you're so lost in your anger, pain and sadness to even realize that it happened, but you get turned around as softly as a frustrated and angry Negan gets and end up face to face with him. He frowns when he sees your tear-soaked face and the pain and angry dilating your pupils as you frantically look all around you but never at **him**._

_" **Y** 'know, baby girl, I'm really starting to fucking believe that I hate you is your lil' way of saying I love you." he cockily says, making the angry fire in your stomach flicker back to life but also making you blush a deep red which he's really quick to notice, a little too quick for your liking even, " **G** od damn, I fucking love when you get mad like that, baby." he whispers, letting his forehead drop against yours though you still refuse to look up at him, " **I** fucking love it 'cause I know damn well that no one else gets to fucking see you like this. S'just me, s'just for daddy's eyes to see and I fucking love that."_

_yeah, no shit no one else gets to see you like this, he's the only fucking person that angers you so fucking much, is he serious right now?_

_But, still, you know that, no matter how much you hate to admit it, he's right. He's right to say that you don't let anyone else see you truly angry even when you are, you don't let that many people see you cry and you sure as shit don't let your emotions out on display like that for anyone to see either. Anyone ain't him though._

_" **I** 'm not going back, Negan. I'm not, I'm just not." you whisper, your breath hitting his lips as you speak._

_" **W** e already fucking talked about th-"_

_" **N** o." you cut him off before stepping away from him, " **N** o, Negan, we didn't fucking talk about anything. **You** 've decided that I was going to bend to your will and follow you like a fucking dog. Fuck that, fuck you."_

_"[ **Y** /n], baby-"_

_" **O** ne day you're sweet, you're here for me, you actually make it seem like you fucking care-"_

_" **I** do fucking care-" he says through his clenched jaw._

_" **T** hen, the very next day, you're back to being an entitled asshole." you keep going, ignoring his words to try and not let him get to you again, " **Y** ou're in love with the idea of being with five different women, you don't give a single shit about me, you treat me like I'm nothing but a price for you to fucking claim and I- I don't- Yeah, I did have a thing with Randall." you admit and, had you been looking up, you would have seen Negan's jaw clench at that, " **I** don't fucking know what it was but I know what is sure as shit wasn't and it's sex. It wasn't about sex, it wasn't about destroying one another, it wasn't some kind of twisted, fucked up, unhealthy competition to see who'd break first, it was just... It was... It was good." you say in a whisper, "It was healthy and it- It wasn't- It wasn't something I believe I deserve, Negan, which, to be honest, I think is why I always end up with you. No matter how far I get, s'always you... Just- Always you and your fucked up ways and I- I just- I just take it because what the hell else am I supposed to do, uh? After Jason-" you make a pause to put yourself together as you feel the awful memories you've made with Jason running back to you, " **T** he night I got back, you- You asked me what I wanted you to change, right?" he silently nods at that though you don't see it because you're too busy avoid looking at him, " **A** nd I- I told you- I told you that if I ever was to be yours, I wanted it to be only you and I, no one else, right?"_

_" **Y** eah, you did, baby. I remember that." he says in a surprising soft voice._

_" **B** ut- But I don't- I don't want a man who truly believes in that kind of lifestyle and who actually worships it and you do, Negan, you do it every day. How many times did- How-" you try, you try really hard to form that one goddamn sentence but you're scared, you're scared because you know that you're not ready for the answer. You know that, deep down, you don't want to know, you **really** don't._

_" **N** ot every night, doll." he admits in a whisper, already knowing what your question was going to be without you needing to form it. The sorrow and disgust in your voice when you tried to gave it away._

_yup, okay, that hurts. oh shit, that actually hurts like a bitch..._

_" **I** f- If I g-go back, I wa-want to b-be with Randall and I w-want him to-to be safe."_

_" **D** on't be fucking stupid, doll-"_

_" **N** o more "doll" or "baby" or- fuck, no more pet names, I don't- I'm- It hurts me, so, no more of that, ever. M'not yours and you sure as shit aren't mine." you state, trying your hardness to sound sharp and sure of yourself but feeling your throat clenching at the end of your sentence. _

_You've never, ever, thought that saying those words would hurt you so much. You thought you were prepared yet, in the very back of your mind, you really wanted to believe that he might actually make a change. It was stupid, yes, but, for a while, it made you feel a little better, helped you through the shit-storms he's put your through._

_" **I** can't, s'not happening, doll."_

_" **W** hy-" you take a deep, shaky breath as tears of frustration start to roll down your face once again. Why can't he let you have that one little thing? Why does he always make sure that you're alone and only for him to have access to? It fucking hurts, " **T** hen let me go back to my friends, let me go back to them and let me be happy, please. You're hurting me, Negan, and, in all honesty, I don't know how much more of you I can take." you admit in a whisper, looking down, unable to look at him, before wiping away your tears, spreading some more blood on your face._

_" **H** ey, baby." Negan says disturbingly softly, his hands framing your face and bringing it up to make you look up at him, his thumbs swiping across your face to wipe your tears away, " **B** reathe baby, it's okay." he coos, carefully examining your tired and bloody face, " **I** know I've fucked up, that's all I fucking do when it comes to you, baby girl, and- I'm fucking sorry. I know I'm fucking hurting you, I'm a fucking asshole and I don't know what to fucking do with the shit you're forcing me to feel, princess, but, goddamn, I felt so fucking empty when you left and I felt like a fucking idiot for feeling that way because I don't fucking do that. S'not me, at least it fucking wasn't 'til you've showed up." you shyly look up at him underneath your lashes, your eyes filled with tears that are threatening to spill out any minute now, " **Y** ou're so fucking pretty, my pretty baby." he whispers, his thumbs absently rubbing your cheekbones, " **I** 'm fucked up and I'm so fucking sorry that you have to deal with my shit, baby. Your lil' heart's already been through enough shit, **you** 've already been through enough fucking shit and I shouldn't have add up to it, it ain't fair, I know that but, goddamn, you're makin' me lose my fucking mind."_

_" **I** wanna go back to Alexandria, please." you plead, tired and craving Daryl's comfort._

_" **A** lright, alright." he breaks with a sigh, not knowing what to do to make you all better._

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**BACK TO THE PRESENT** **//** **11:00 AM** **//** **ALEXANDRIA** **//**

" **A** nd how exactly do we know that she's not with him, uh? Seriously, are you guys fucking stupid?"

" **C** alm the fuck down and don't talk to us like that-"

" **F** uck you, Dixon! You saw what he did to Spencer, we all did! Why would you trust her after what she's just told us?!"

" **R** osita," Michonne cuts in, "she clearly stated that being in his group was far from being a choice and that puts her in the exact same boat as us."

" **Y** ou don't know her like I do-" Daryl starts but gets cut off.

" **S** he was just a-" Rosita interrupts only to be cut off by Daryl.

" **J** ust a kid, I fucking know! But she's still- She's still [y/n], and, goddamn it, I know that fucking look, alright? She's scared, she's clearly not okay with what's happening, with whatever is going on with that sonuvabitch! C'mon, I can't be the only one-"

" **I** trust her, I think she has her place here." Rick calmly gives his two cents.

" **S** he seems scared more than anything else, really. Plus, I mean, she told us, you know? If she had something to hide, she wouldn't even have taken the chance of us knowing what happened to her before we found her, I mean... Right?" Glenn says, trying to put two and two together.

" **G** lenn's right, she told us, that makes her all good in my book. You guys take your decision but I've already taken mine, I know where I stand." Maggie says before walking out of the church and takes a second to look at you when she steps outside, you're sitting down on the steps of Daryl's porch, nervously pulling on your fingers, your eyes puffy.

" **S** he could be me, y'know?" Enid softly states, taking Maggie out of her thoughts.

" **W** hy are you saying that, Enid?"

" **S** he's just like me- I mean, she was out there all by herself and very bad things happened to her so, all I'm saying is that, I could definitely be in her place right now. Could be me." the young girl says with a shrug.

" **B** ut you're not and you won't ever be, you're with us." Maggie says with a smile, reassuring her.

" **I** t's not the point, I mean- I appreciate you saying that but... Point is, you gave me a shelter, Glenn- Glenn saved me even though I've pointed a gun at him, it's- I trust her and I think that she just needs a little company, a family, like us."

" **Y** eah?" Maggie asks with a grin.

" **T** otally." Enid says, bumping her hip into Maggie, the two girls laughing together as they share a little moment of tranquility which quickly ends when an angry Rosita storms out of the small church.

" **W** ell, I take it it didn't go well?" Maggie asks, slightly cringing, already exhausted by the drama.

" **S** he'll get used to it. [Y/n] ain't done shit to her and Spencer wasn't that big a loss either." Daryl spits out, clearly aggravated.

" **D** aryl-" Michonne starts though she honestly believes the same thing.

" **O** h, c'mon, y'all didn't even know this dude, his mom was a fucking loss but I ain't got no sympathy for him. S'bullshit."

The grown ups start to talk and get lost in their conversation, so much so that they don't even see Carl sneaking away and make his way towards you with Judith in his arms. You don't even realize that he's walking up to you until he's sitting right next to you on the steps leading up to Daryl's porch, his baby sister looking curiously at you.

" **I** had to kill my mom to keep my little sister safe." he nonchalantly confesses, he's not being cold but you can't say that you've ever been greeted that way and it kind of freak you out a little. 

_well... shit... is that a threat? no, 'cause, like, if he wants us to shit our pants, he did a great fucking job..._

" **I** uh- I'm sorry. No one should have to kill someone they love, I'm sorry you had go through that." you manage to say with stuttering, trying your hardest to keep your composure. Doesn't matter if the kid's threatening you or not, your heart still aches for him.

" **Y** eah- Thanks." he simply says, again seemingly unfazed by his own confession.

" **W** hy are you telling me this? I mean- I don't even know your name so... Should I just assume that you've just threaten me?"

" **N** o, it's just-" with a sigh, he finally looks at you, letting you see his right bandaged eye but you try not to dwell on it, " **W** e've all done some crap that we didn't want to do but we just had to and- You talked about Negan forcing you to kill somebody and, like- My step-mom told me that, the things you do? They don't have to make you a monster, that you don't have to be afraid of that. Oh, and, my name's Carl by the way and this is my little sister, Judith."

" **I** 'm [y/n] but, yeah, you already knew that... And- Thank you, Carl."

" **N** o problem... Welcome, by the way." he says before kissing his baby sister's forehead and carefully getting up to walk off to his dad, leaving as quickly as he came, leaving you dumbfound. You watch as he hands his baby sister back to his father before running off with the girl who was talking to Maggie before.

Maybe this isn't so bad. **Maybe** this could actually work and, **maybe** , _just maybe_ , those people are actually truly willing to give you a fair shot to prove yourself.

 

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﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

**ALEXANDRIA // TWO WEEKS LATER;**

Rick and Aaron went off to God knows where, Carl and Daryl are nowhere to be found and to make it all better, you're now in charge of Judith since Olivia is cooking dinner.

Life is good here though, you've adapted surprisingly fast, people seems to actually trust and like you now and there's no tensions left between you and Rosita since you two had decided to have a chat on your second day at Alexandria. Rick trusts you and it means the world because not only does he trusts you enough to take you out on runs with him but also because he trusts you with his kids and so does Michonne and you'd be lying if you'd say that you didn't look up to them a whole lot.

At this point, those two basically adopted you and it seems like Carl really likes you too even though he's having a hard time because of his eye and he's angry because of the whole "Negan situation" his family- **your** family is in. You've helped them a lot with supplies, like **a lot** , and that's what really stuck with them. You've pulled your weight around no matter how bad your shoulder was hurting you.

You still can't aim a gun let alone your freaking bow without your entire arm shaking in pain after a single second but Daryl helps you with that. You've actually moved in with him now and it's like living with a five years old stuck inside a grown man's body, it's amazing because you're the exact same. It's like the good old days, before the outbreak, when you moved to live with him and his brother after your mother died.

It's weird to see him interacting with people the way he does but it's a good kind of weird. You're proud of him, you're happy to see that people love and care for him, God knows he deserves it. He's also helped you getting over Merle's death, he's answered your questions, actually told you about what happened which ended up in the two of you discovering that you've had an enemy in common at some point and he also helped you find a way to say goodbye since you didn't originally get to.

Right now, you're sitting on the big fluffy carpet covering the floor of Judith's room, she's staring at you with the cutest smile on her face and, whenever you smile back, she starts clapping her hands which makes your smile grow ten times bigger and your heart melt in your chest. Sometimes she throws herself back on the carpet, waiting for you to catch her right before she can make contact with it and laughs when you get there just in time before doing it all over again.

You love this kind of moment, you love feeling the way you do now. You love finally feeling at peace with yourself and you just love the people here, the place itself would just be another version of the hell there is outside if it wasn't for the people living inside its walls and, boy, do you love Abraham's stupid and kind of disgusting jokes. This place just wouldn't have the amount of class it has without Abraham Ford.

" **Y** ay, ya like that, princess?" you ask Judith only for her to let herself fall back again, making you laugh, " **G** ot'cha!" you exclaim with a giggle as you catch her and lift her up to hold her close to you, your heart melting when her small hands snake around your neck as far as her little arms allow them to go, " **H** ey, there, princess." you whisper before kissing the side of her head, appreciating her presence and the gentleness of the moment.

You stay like that for what seems like hours, just holding her close to you, enjoying the moment, softly rocking her back and forth as her body slowly goes limp in your arms. When you hear her softly snoring against your chest, you carefully stand up, careful not to wake her or drop her, and slowly make your way to her crib before gently tugging her in, turning her little radio on to make sure that Olivia can hear whatever's happening in the room while she's busy in the kitchen downstairs, in case she starts to cry or throw up and you're not around.

" **S** leep tight, Judy bear. Your dad'll be right here when you'll wake up, I promise." you whisper before kissing one of her tiny hands.

You slowly take a step back to get away from her crib and let her sleep in peace but you don't even get to get an inch away from her when your back hits something solid, more like someone, and you freak the hell out the second your bare arms make contact with what you know to be leather and an all too familiar smell invades your senses.

_this is a fucking nightmare, it can't be fucking real, it can't, he can't..._

" **L** ook at you, takin' care of a baby like that shit's supposed to be natural or some'. I fucking missed ya, baby girl. S'been two fuckin' months and here you are." you hear Negan say lowly right inside your right ear, making you want to cry in panic but also making you shiver, his voice covering your skin with goosebumps, " **Y** ou look so goddamn good, wearin' nothin' but high-knee socks, panties and a tank top. Fucking hell, princess."

His words make your cheeks burn but you still find the strength to push him off of you and out of Judith's room, closing the door before staring him down, your mind unable and unwilling to process that he's actually **right here**  yet he's all over the place. He's all you can see and smell, you love it- No, you hate it.

You've missed him but you have to admit that, now that he's here, you're scared. You're not scared for **your** life, no, you're scared for the people living here, for Daryl, for Carl, Judith, Rick, Michonne, Sasha, all of them.

This is your worst nightmare, to have him back in your life, but it's also the thing you've been craving for months. Talk about a mind fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuuUUUUUUgh, this chapter's weird and I don't like it, someone please roll me over with a fucking truck -_-  
> ALSO, the part with Negan? That's be in the next chapter, it'll be explained and all, don't worry, I know it might be weird right now but it'll make sense... hopefully... okay, now, I'm panicking... whaT HAVE I DONE?! I'VE CREATED A MONSTER, FAAAAAACK. (yes, "fack" is a word, okay? Eminem said so)
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS ALSO FUCKING SHORT AND I HATE EVERYTHING, THE ONLY GOOD THING I HAVE TO TELL YOU (well, "good thing" depends on who's asking, really) IS THAT THE CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE IS LITERALLY HALF WRITTEN ALREADY SO IT'LL BE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COMING WEEK FOR SURE AND I PROMISE THAT I'LL TRY AND MAKE IT LONGER, I FEEL LIKE SHIT RIGHT NOW AND I'M SORRY THAT I LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING POSITIVE TO SAY, I'M THE FUCKING WORST BUT I TRULY HOPE THAT YOU'RE ALL DOING GREAT AND THAT YOU'RE SAFE, THAT YOU EAT WHAT YOU LOVE, THAT YOU'RE PROUD OF YOU, THAT YOU'RE HAVE SOMETHING TO BRING MAKE YOU ALL BETTER WHEN YOU'RE FEELING DOWN (personally it's Rick & Morty for me but HEY GUESS WHAT THERE'S NO NEW FREAKING EPISODES YET, FAAAACK MY LIFE.. anyway, I'll watch Bob's Burgers, I don't give a shit, I freaking love this show and NO I AM NOT ASHAMED TO SAY THAT I'VE WATCHED EACH CURRENT SEASON AT LEAST FOUR TIMES EACH, FIGHT ME (ง'̀-'́)ง)
> 
> Honestly though, I really do feel like shit but I want you guys to know that I'm okay, I'm trying and I'm still writing, I'm not stopping and if I ever do (for some freaking reason) I will let you know, like I already said, I'm not just gonna leave like that, nope, not happening, you won't get rid of this bitch so easily (▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)
> 
> Okay, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (even though it fucking sucks and i hate everything right now) and that you're having an amazing day or night, okay, I love you, please stay safe.


	21. Black and blue //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I really need to tell you all about how much time I've spend on proofreading this shit, again? No? Good answer my friend!  
> (but, yeah, i did my best with the condition that i'm in at the moment)  
> okay, luv you! hope you'll enjoy ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵

~~**T H E N   //** ~~

 

" **L** _ook at you, takin' care of a baby like that shit's supposed to be natural or some'. I fucking missed ya, baby girl. S'been two fuckin' months and here you are." you hear Negan say lowly right inside your right ear, making you want to cry in panic but also making you shiver, his voice covering your skin with goosebumps,_ " **Y** _ou look so goddamn good, wearin' nothin' but high-knee socks, panties and a tank top. Fucking hell, princess."_

_His words make your cheeks burn but you still find the strength to push him off of you and out of Judith's room, closing the door before staring him down, your mind unable and unwilling to process that he's actually **right here**  yet he's all over the place. He's all you can see and smell, you love it- No, you hate it._

_You've missed him but you have to admit that, now that he's here, you're scared. You're not scared for **your**  life, no, you're scared for the people living here, for Daryl, for Carl, Judith, Rick, Michonne, Sasha, all of them._

_This is your worst nightmare, to have him back in your life, but it's also the thing you've been craving for months. Talk about a mind fuck._

 

**N O W   //**

 

 

" **S** o what? Daddy doesn't get a hug, baby doll?" Negan asks with a smirk as you stand there, looking at him with pure confusion and panic written all over you features.

You don't answer him, you just blink and look down the white socks covering your feet and try your damnedest to stay calm, knowing that Judith is only a door away and you don't want to wake her up, especially not because of yet another useless argument with Negan.

You hear him sigh when he doesn't get an answer out of you and, yes, it intimidates you but you keep one thing in mind; **you are safe within the walls of Alexandria**.

_or so you thought..._

" **B** een gone for two fucking months, baby, and you're not even gonna fucking talk to me?'' he asks and you don't need to look at him to know that he's frowning, " **D** on't ya feel like you've got some fucking explainin' to do? Huh?" he snarls out, keeping his voice low not to wake Judith before stepping right in front of your face, completely robbing you of your personal space.

You can't help the tear that falls down your cheek only to fall flat on the white fabric of your one of your socks, Negan quick to notice it. This is nerve raking to you because you're literally stuck in a corridor with him, so scared to speak up because you don't want him to start yelling and wake Judith, and he's so angry the air around you so thick that it feels like it's making you gag whenever you try to breathe. Not only is he pissed but, more specifically, he's pissed at **you**.

You feel like shit, you feel terrible and you now that the tear that you've just let out wasn't just a nervous one.

You can't help it, you've missed him and you know that you shouldn't feel the way you do. You know that but, being away from him was way too fucking hard for you. You hate that, right now, you can literally feel all the damn anxiety of being away from him just melting right off of you and the only thing your brain can think of is running into his arms and let him take you back to the way things were before you left, no matter how fucked up they were, no matter how fucked up _this_ is.

" **W** hy're you crying, baby girl?" he asks before lifting your head up with his bare left hand, forcing you to look at him, " **M** 'not gonna hurt ya, y'know that. I know you do."

_'cause i'm scared and everything hurts right now._

" **I** -" you're about to say something you know you'll regret, you're about to tell him that you've missed him terribly and that it hurts being away from him but, luckily, you restrain yourself from doing so and bounce back before it's too late for you to, " **I** don't want to talk to you, just leave me alone, m'tired of this shit. How did you even find me?" you ask with a frown, shoving his hand away from your face and immediately missing the heat and comfort of his touch but you try not to pay too much attention to it right now.

You hear him chuckle and your head immediately snaps up only to finde him standing even closer to you, his chest pushing against yours, making you feel ridiculously small and vulnerable but, again, you push that feeling aside for now.

_what's he laughing about? fucking prick... kinda missed his laugh though... fucking hell._

" **H** ot damn! That's good, baby, real fuckin' good." he exclaims with a dry chuckle, his voice raising the sightliest bit, " **Y** eah, I've spend two fucking months worryin' about your ass and now you have the fuckin' audacity to brush me off? No, uh-uh, that shit ain't happening, [y/n], try again."

_he worried about you? he actually knows how to do that?_

" **E** x-fucking-cuse me but, go ahead, go ahead and tell me that I didn't have- that I **still** don't fucking have a goddamn list of fucking reasons to stay the hell away from you, Negan!"you snap, getting carried away in your emotions and forgetting about the poor clueless little girl sleeping right behind the door at your back, " **G** o right ahead, I know how much you looove to always have the last fucking word so, go ahead and fucking tell me! Go ahead!" you can't believe this actually came out of your mouth but, goddamn, does it feel good. It feels right, it feels like a huge weight's been lifted off of your shoulders, **finally**.

_did... did you just say "ex-fucking-cuse me"? that's... his fucking thing... don't you fucking dare pick up on the things he does and says, girl, don't you fucking dare._

Negan seems as surprised by your outburst as you are but he brushes it off and takes a step towards you, crushing you under his much broader frame, but, just before he gets the chance to snap right back at you, you spot Carl walking up the stairs, his injured eye, or more like his injured eye-socket, completely uncovered and you're pretty damn sure that Negan has something to do with that, as a matter of fact; **you know he does**.

_where the hell has he been? this lil' shit, i swear to the fucking lord..._

" **U** h-uh, Carl, go the fuck back downstairs." Negan immediately barks at him before he even has a chance to speak, " **S** he might be the only fucking person on this goddamned Earth who's able to keep me fuckin' calm but I can't assure you that I won't fucking bash you if you interrupt our fucking conversation." he adds, his eyes never leaving your face.

" **S** 'okay, Carl. I-I'll be right there, s'okay." you whisper loudly enough for Carl to hear and you see him hesitantly nodding at you and heading back down the stairs of his house, " **D** on't talk to him like that, who do you think you are?" you snarl, your mother hen side showing though you're about to burst into tears of anger and frustration.

Even though you're angry and flustered by his attitude, you can't help but feel giddy at the fact that he just admitted to someone that you're actually able to keep him calm. You can't help it, a compliment, a genuine one, coming out of his mouth is always something that you crave and need for some goddamn reason, you need his validation, you crave it... God, what a fucking mess.

" **Y** ou're coming back with me, doll." he spits,  ignoring your words as he's clearly losing his patience.

" **O** r what?" you spit right back at him through some seriously tightly clenched teeth.

" **I** 'll bash your lil' friend's head in and turn it into a fucking pulp." he threatens, his eyes dark and his voice low.

You have to take a second to treat the information that he just gave you, it's so violent that it's actually made your heart skip a beat.

_he can't fucking do that, what the hell._

" **Y** ou won't- You can't do that, I won't let you- You- You can't do that!"

" **Y** es, I fucking can darling, and I fucking will." he says with a mean, cold grin before taking another step towards you which ends up crushing your body against the wall of Judith's bedroom and his solid body, " **O** r you can make things easy on all of us, no one dies and we all have a good fucking day, baby."

" **H** ow do I win, Negan?" you ask in a whisper, your eyes screwed shut.

" **S** 'not my fucking problem, darling." he whispers, his breath hitting your lips and you flinch when you feel one of his hands landing on your left cheek to cup it in his palm. It's the gloved one so you know it's his right hand.

" **W** hy is Carl's injury showing, Negan? Did you make him take his bandages off? Was he with you?" you carefully ask, opening your eyes to look at him and audibly swallowing when you find him looking straight back at you.

" **Y** eah, he was with me alright, he actually came shooting up a fucking storm, killed some of my men, too, baby." you choke on your breath, panic making your heart swell, and the little choked sound doesn't get passed Negan, "But, hey, y'see, he's safe and sound. I didn't hurt him or anythin', just gave him a lil' tour real quick and brought him back, m'just a good guy like that." he finishes, his gloved thumb rubbing up and down on your left cheekbone

" **W** hat? What the hell?" you ask in a whisper, not sure if you're actually talking to Negan or if you're just thinking out loud at this point.

_do we kill the lil' shit or do we just wait for rick to hear about this?_

" **T** he kid looks badass like that." Negan says, pulling you out of your contemplation and making your head snap up, " **Y** ou shouldn't make him cover that shit up, s'fucking gross but it looks fucking cool."

" **I** s that what you said to him? That it looks gross?"you surprise yourself when you actually manage to push him off of you with a shove, " **W** hat the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how hard it is for his father to even get him to take care of the damn wound? And what about Carl, uh? Don't you think it's hard enough for him to adapt to this shit without having a grown ass man telling him that he looks gross? What is wrong with you, Negan?!"

He's about to speak when you both hear Judith crying and you let out a sigh, upset that both yours and Negan's yelling have finally woke the little girl.

" **I** got it, it's okay." you say softly to Olivia when you spot her standing at the foot of the staircase, ready to come up but clearly not comfortable with the idea of being anywhere near Negan and, if you're being honest, you can't really blame her.

Turning your back on Negan, you softly open the door to Judith's bedroom and rush to her crib, carefully lifting her up and wrapping her up in your arms the second you get to her. Softly rocking her and humming against the top of her head, she quickly calms down, her head resting heavy with sleep against your chest.

" **S** hh, it's okay Judy bear. It's okay. I'm sorry." you coo, leaving a kiss on the crown of her head, "Shh, it's okay. You're okay, princess."

" **W** here's Rick?" you hear Negan ask, his strong stubble touching your bare neck, making you jump slightly since you didn't even realize that he was in the room with you, let alone that he was so freaking close to you.

" **O** utside, risking his life to get supplies that he won't even get to enjoy." you bitterly spit out before refocusing on the little girl in your arm.

With a sigh, you leave a gentle kiss against Judith's temple and close your eyes to try and take a moment to just be with her and her only, to calm yourself down and to get your mind in the proper place to try and keep the dialogue between you and Negan as calm and civilized as possible.

It's dumb to you but, as you're holding this little baby in your arms, you can't help but feel a deep pain that you just can't shake off because the only thing on your mind is that you'll never get to have one of your own. You never thought that this thought would ever hurt you yet, here you are.

You softly clear your throat and gently put Judith back into her crib after she fell back into a deep sleep in your arms before quickly wiping away the tear that escaped from your eyes and you try your very best to swallow the rest of them back, not wanting to wake the poor little girl again nor wanting to let Negan see or hear you cry.

You keep your back turned to him as lovingly watch Judith sleeping heavily, her little feet kicking around from time to time, making you smile. As you watch her little feet move around, you recall the time when Daryl told you that she got it from him, you remember Rick's laugh and the "yeah, y'wish" he gave him, and you can't help but let out a little laugh at the memory.

Daryl really loves this kid and it just does something to you whenever you see him playing around with her because you can clearly tell that he's afraid that he might be doing something wrong but her giggles always prove him otherwise and, to you, it doesn't get any more adorable than that.

Your happy thoughts are cut short when you feel Negan's arms snaking around your waist, slightly pulling your shirt up, enough to fully expose your bare thighs and a slight bit of your hips and you feel your entire body tense up at his touch but it quickly calms down and melts against his chest. Much to your dismay, your body is betraying your mind and it's kind of fucking things up for you right now.

" **Y** ou're good with her, baby." he whispers against the shell of your ear, his beard grazing the bare and exposed skin of your neck and the side of your head.

" **S** he's just really calm, she's not hard to deal with, at all." you whisper back as calmly as possible, trying not to freak out when you feel his bare hand leave your waist to come up and run through your shorter hair, his thumb going in circles through the buzzed hair covering the mid-back of your head, especially your neck.

" **Y** ou look real fucking good with short hair by the way, princess. Plus, it gives me a good excuse to put my hands around your throat, now." he lowly say and you swear to fuck that you can hear him smirking yet you can't help but blush at his words and at his closeness.

Though you can't deny that his voice and words to things to you, the mention of him wrapping his hands around your throat is making a small part of your brain freak out, **especially**  when you're still wearing the now slightly faded burn mark his hand's left on your throat two months ago after he choked you out in his blind rage and almost made you black out from the lack of oxygen.

" **R** -Randall helped me cut 'em I- I just- It's s-safer that w-way." you whisper, not wanting to wake little Judith up again.

" **W** ould ya just take a fucking compliment already, baby girl?" he says with his stupid cocky smirk still plastered on his lips, " **P** rincess, you're shaking like a leaf in fucking high wind." he says with a small chuckle yet his voice is even rougher than it normally is and the fact that he's whispering right against the shell of your ear only makes you shiver some more against him.

You hate the way your body always reacts to his touch or even his mere presence but he loves it, he craves it. He enjoys your hypersensitivity but he knows damn well that your body being hypersensitive isn't the only reason why you're so responsive to his touch, to _him_.

He does things to do, he knows it and it's the most goddamn enjoyable thing to him, not to you though because you know that he knows. Of course he fucking knows and of course it feeds his gigantic ego.

" **R** andall w-was with me you-you know-"

" **Y** eah, I fucking know, doll. I fucking know." he says and you're not sure what the tone in his voice is, " **H** ow about we go for a walk real quick, uh? I'll bring you back in this shithole as soon as you ask me to, princess."

" **I** f you really wanna talk, we can talk here, Negan."

" **N** o, we fucking can't and, yes, I want to fucking talk."

" **L** et me go get dressed then." you sigh, clearly irritated by his behavior, " **M** ove." you spit bitterly as you push past him and drag him out of Judith's bedroom, softly closing the door, before heading down stairs, not bothering to wait for him, and your eyes immediately fall on Carl, " **G** ive me one goddamn reason not to tell your dad about the shit you've just pulled, Grimes."

" **H** e killed one of us, [y/n]! He steals from us and you just want us to let that go? Screw that, I want him dead and you should too!"

" **I** was worried sick about you, Carl!" you cry out and he's about to say something but Negan beats him to it.

" **L** isten here, kiddo, I have a shitload of respect for ya so, how about you stop with the threats and just lay the fuck back, uh? Think I got the point."

" **N** egan, stop-" you plead before getting cut off by an angry Carl.

" **Y** ou think I give a fuck about-"

" **E** nough! Both of you, that's enough!" you finally snap, making poor Olivia jump as she's cooking dinner, " **N** egan, get the hell out of this damn house! Right now!" you demand, shooting Negan down with your eyes and he actually listens to you. With a smirk on his lips, he leaves the house, winking at Olivia just to make her let out something between a sob and a scoff and, goddamn-

_did you just get jealous? no, uh-uh, hell no, get the fuck out of here with this crap, no, nope._

As much as you hate it, you're pretty sure that what you felt when Negan winked at Olivia **was** jealousy, you just felt your jaw violently clench down, your shoulders tense up and you even felt the urge to punch her.

You wanted to punch poor Olivia and that woman never did shit to you. She's always been so sweet and good to you, yet you felt the need to punch her because of a fucking stupid man. You're kind of grossed-out right now if you're being honest because, if anything, you should be mad at Negan, **not her**.

_what the hell is wrong with you? get your shit together, woman. for fuck's sake._

" **C** arl, I- Damn it, I care about you, okay?" you say the second the door of the Grimes' house clicks shut, " **I** don't want you to put yourself in danger like that, you hear me? He's not worth it and-I- I think- I-" you let out a frustrated sigh as you get overwhelmed with emotions and it feels like you're about to burst, " **I** 'm gonna go talk with him for a little bit, I'll be back in-" you pause to check the watch wrapped around your wrist, smiling as it reminds you of Jesus, " **O** kay, let's say, an hour. Carl, I want you to eat something, alright?"

You walk to Rick's living room and grab your pants which are messily spread out on the couch before turning your back to Carl and Olivia to swiftly put your bra back on underneath your shirt, well, actually, Daryl's tank top.

" **W** hy would you go anywhere with him, [y/n]?" you hear Olivia ask as you finish to lace up your boots.

" **B** ecause," you start as straighten back up before walking towards the kitchen again, "he's here and he knows that I'm here which means that, now, I have to shake him off of my back... **again**."

" **I** 'm sorry, [y/n]. S'my fault." Carl mumbles apologetically, running a nervous hand through his long brown locks. 

" **C** arl, what you did was really fucking stupid and unnecessary but, no, this is not your fault, okay? He would have found me at some point anyway, so, yeah.. S'not your fault." you say, only half convinced by your theory but giving him a small smile anyway, " **A** nyways, you two stay safe. Take care of your little sister, Carl, and- If you see Daryl, just- Tell him that I'm okay and that I'll be back before the end of the day, alright?"

" **O** kay, I think he's at Hilltop anyway so, you've got some time before he gets back. But if he does get back before you, we'll let him know, no worries." Olivia says with a warm smile.

" **T** hank you, Olivia." you give her a smile and a nod before impulsively stepping towards Carl to take him into your arms and, much to your surprise, he almost immediately wraps his around your waist, " **W** ith or without your bandage, with or without both of your eyes, you're still the bravest, smartest, coolest person I've ever met, Carl." you whisper softly only for him to hear, " **A** nd, the fact that you've survived a shot to the freaking head makes you- well, badass isn't really the word for it, you're totally above that pay-grade."

" **I** care about you too." he whispers back to you, referring to the words you said to him earlier on.

You squeeze him tightly against you, making him laugh, and let go of him and gently slap the back of his head in silent disapproval of his reckless actions before walking out of his house, Negan waiting for you on the porch outside.

_oh boy... long day ahead, uh?_

 

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 **12:15** **PM** **//**

_this is stupid, this is the stupidest thing there is. i hate it and how stupid it is. what the hell is wrong with you? why would you agree to this bullcrap?_

You sigh as your thoughts beat you up for agreeing to actually go on that walk with Negan and now, you're stuck in the middle of a crappy town, Negan whistling beside you, Lucille on his shoulder as usual, and you've lost count of how many times you've rolled your eyes by now.

" **N** egan-" you start, stopping dead in your tracks, " **W** hat the hell are we doing here, uh?" you ask, your arms motioning on either side of you before dropping back to your sides.

" **I** wanted to talk, doll." he says like it's oh-so-obvious that that's exactly what you two are doing right now - **it's not, at al** l-.

" **T** hen let's fucking talk. No 'cause, I'm seriously getting tired of this stupid back and forth thing, it's sickening and-"

" **I** 'll leave your fucking friends alone." he says out of the blue, cutting you off and almost making you choke on your own saliva.

" **W** -what?"

" **I** 'll leave them to their own goddamn selves if you come back with me, baby."

_is... is he serious?_

" **N** -Negan, that's not funny, okay? It's not-"

" **G** ood, 'cause it's not a fucking joke, baby. C'mon, you know I have a better sense of humor than that." he teases with a smirk.

_what... on earth...?_

" **W** -what's the catch, N-Negan?"

" **T** here's no fucking catch, baby girl." he says with a sigh, " **L** ook, dolly, I don't usually do that type of shit, ever, so- Look, I know that it's not the type of generic romantic bullshit people do and what-the-fuck-not but, hey, m'trying here, baby."

_i kinda -really- like his idea of romance, to be honest..._

" **Y** ou-You promise?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as if you're afraid he might take it all back if you speak to loud.

" **Y** es, baby, I fucking promise."

You freeze for a few minutes. This isn't about you anymore, it's about your friends, the people you care about and, let's be honest, the only people who actually managed to make you feel truly cared for and loved and that in only two weeks and, to have this opportunity? To be the one who might be able to get them their freedom back? You don't even want to think twice about it.

" **A** lright, if you promise then- Then I'll come back. I'll come back."

" **N** o more running away?" Negan asks with a small smirk and a tilt of his head.

" **N-** No more running away but- You have to keep your promise, Negan."

You see him extending his hand towards you and you expect him to give you his hand for you to shake but he only extends his pinkie finger out like you always do and your pinkie is real fucking quick to snake around his, tightly squeezing it in a silent promise.

_okay, this is weird but... i think we could get used to this... well, if it lasts... which it probably... won't... yeah, never mind._

You're taken out of your thoughts when you feel his breath hitting your lips and it's too fucking much for you to take, his closeness is too much for you to bear, you can't take it, not after months of being away from him.

" **P** lease, Negan." is the only thing you can manage to say but it seems to be more than enough for him to make your lips collide in a slow yet hungry kiss, making you let out the neediest noise your vocal cords can produce and making Negan groan into your mouth. It seems like you've both been missed each other, maybe a little too much.

 

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 **3:00** **PM** **//**

Negan dropped you off a few meters away from Alexandria since you both decided that it might be best not to let anyone see him show up again, he also told you that he'll be waiting for you tomorrow first thing in the morning, giving you the rest of today to tell everyone what happened with Negan... Well, okay, maybe not everything, the heavy make-out session you two had in the middle of the street is definitely something that you want to keep to yourself.

On the way back, as you're looking around, getting lost at the sight of the strong wind making the clouds move over the sun, you think about how you're supposed to break the news to your new found family, about how much it's gonna hurt you, about how badly you'll miss them but you reassure yourself with the thought of Negan telling you that he will let you go and spend a day or two with them every week but, somehow, it's not enough to you. It's not enough because you want to stay with them, you like being part of this family.

Your thoughts are cut short when you realize that, this is it; you're standing in front of Alexandria and the gate is opening right in front of you, Daryl and Sasha being the ones behind it, pushing it open for you to come inside.

" **Y** ou fucking suck, okay?!" is the very first thing you say when you finally get face to face with Daryl, " **I** was worried sick about you! I didn't know where you were and- And then- then- and- And I thought- God damn it!" you snap, tears running all over your face, your nose starting to run as you slowly but surely turn into a mess of emotions.

" **H** ey, damn, m'sorry, [y/n]." he apologizes, clearly feeling bad about not letting you know that he was leaving for the day.

" **Y** ou freaking suck, Dixon! You can't do this to me!" you cry out before running into his arms, crushing your face into his chest and, to be honest, you just kinda let all the emotions of the day out on him. You're exhausted, you're scared, you feel like shit yet you feel some kind of relief at the idea of taking Negan off their back, those people matter to you, way more than you care to admit, and you want them to be as safe and happy as possible.

" **I** 'm sorry, [y/n]. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry pumpkin." he softly coos and you find yourself sobbing even more after he referred to you as "pumpkin".

Merle was the very first and only person to ever call you pumpkin. Yes, Simon does too now but it's different to actually hear it come out of a Dixon's mouth, it's just- It's different, it's **better** , it's pure and it feels normal. It feels right because it's family and it brings back memories.

 

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 **10:00** **PM** **//**

You've been dreading this moment, you've been stalling, took your time with but, at the end of tonight's dinner, you finally forced yourself to take the jump and now, here you are. No one is saying a damn word and you've never been so nervous in your life. Daryl's eyes are shooting you down right now, you know he's about to blow a fuse and you're simply waiting for it to happen, trying to brace yourself for impact though you know from experience that it won't do you much good.

" **F** uck that, I'm not havin' it, [y/n]." he finally speaks, his voice sharp.

" **D** aryl-" you try in a whisper but it fruitless.

" **F** uck that!" he snaps, standing up from the couch to pace back and forth in front of the others.

_and there it is..._

" **Pl** ease, you don't-" you try one more time.

" **N** ah, I fuckin' understand and I'm not here for this shit, [y/n]! You ain't leavin' with this prick! We don't fucking need your help!"

" **H** e said he'd let me visit you-" again, you try.

" **I** don't give a fuck what he said!" he snarls, stopping his pacing to looking straight into your teary eyes, " **Y** 'know what? You wanna leave? Fine, go ahead, but don't you fucking come back. I don't fucking need your pity visits." he spits out, his words stinging like only Daryl can make them sting when it comes to you.

" **D** aryl, wait-" Carol tries when you don't because you know better than to try and keep a Dixon from storming out of a discussion.

" **P** iss off." he spits, completely ignoring his friend as he angrily walks out of Rick's house, slamming the door behind him with so much force that it wakes Judith up even though she's sleeping upstairs.

" **I** 've got it, Rick." Gabriel says before walking upstairs to put Judith back to sleep.

You want to burst into tears, you want to break everything around you but you also want to run away as far as you possibly can and forget all about tonight.

You get Daryl's reaction, you know him, and you know damn well that he didn't actually mean any of what he just said, that he will regret it in the morning if not in the middle of the night, but he won't take the first step because he's too prideful and you fucking hate him and his fucking stupid attitude.

You have abandonment issues too but you don't break people in half like that when they're trying to help you even if it means that they have to leave you.

" **I** -I'm sorry-" you whisper, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

" **D** on't be. S'not your fault, he'll calm down, you just- give him some time." Rick says before looking around the room, unsure of what to think of the information you just gave him and his family, " **W** hy go back to him, [y/n]?"

" **B** -because it means getting him o-off you guys' back and-and I- I just- I just want to take that opportunity because he-he doesn't hand those out that o-often." you sniffle, wiping your tears away with balls up fists.

" **D** oesn't that seem too... Easy?" Glenn asks, clearly weary, before looking at you, " **I** mean, I trust you [y/n], I really do but- Negan? Not so much, he doesn't seem to be very... stable?"

" **Y** -yeah, he's f-fucking mental." you say with a nervous laugh, " **B** -but he-he's a man of his w-words, that much I know. I get why this'd s-seem fishy t-to you guys, I g-get it b-because it-it was to me too at f-first."

" **W** hat do you two have going on, anyway?" you hear Michonne ask carefully, trying not to be rude but still wanting to know.

" **I** -I- I don't know." you sincerely whisper with a shrug, " **W** e don't- I mean- We're not, like, together, at-at all, i-if that's what y-you're asking but- I think- I think that he t-trusts me for-for some reason."

" **D** o you? Trust him?" Maggie asks, curious to have your thoughts on the whole situation.

" **O** -on this one? Y-yes, I do. He meant what he said, I know th-that and-and if he messes up- I still would have gotten him off you guys' back l-long enough for you t-to have a d-decent stock of weapons by then and- I swear to God, I'll even help you end him the second he'll cross the line. I promise you that because, no matter what, Daryl is still my family, you guys- you guys are important to me and I don't want you to get hurt and- and that's the point of this wh-whole stupid thing and- and I hate it, I hate him."

" **T** hank you." you hear Carol say, making your head snap up in her direction. That woman doesn't speak often but when she does it's only because she feels the need to so, having her thanking you is a big deal to you. You look up at this woman quite a lot if you're being honest.

" **T** wo times a week, you get your ass back here and we'll get drunk off our asses, you'll stay the night and we'll spend the next day just hanging out, okay? S'not a question, by the way." Tara says, making her girlfriend giggle next to her.

" **I** 'd love that." you whisper with a small smile, happy that you've sorted that situation out...ish- but extremely upset that you've hurt Daryl in the process.

_yeah, but negan won't._

It wan't supposed to go like that.

_yeah, no shit, and life isn't supposed to be a living hell, darling, but, hey... surprise!_

After a while, after the group tried to reassure you as well as themselves that you were all going to be okay, you've ended the night, telling them that you were tired and needed to pack up for tomorrow anyway but, of course, they knew that you mostly really wanted this conversation to end. They knew because they wanted it to be as badly as you did.

You're about to step out of Rick's house when his hand lands on your shoulder, keeping you from stepping out, " **A** word, please?" he says more than he asks though his voice is gentle before gently pushing you outside and closing the front door of the house, turning around to face you after taking a deep breath, " **Y** ou sure you know what you're doin', kid?"

" **N** o, I'm not, not at all." you nervously admit, looking down to try and hide your tears from Rick but he knows, of course he knows, he's not stupid.

" **T** hen why take the risk, [y/n]?" he asks in a soft tone that you've only heard him take around his family, never you, so it surprises you and pushes you over the edge, a sob leaving your mouth before your head slowly look up to look at him as he's standing right in front of you.

" **B** ecause," you start with a sad yet genuine smile, "if I don't try then I **know** that nothing will change for you guys but, if I do? No matter what happens then, at least I'll know that I'd have tried my hardest. And I know, of course I know, that you could kill him, hell, you probably already thought it all out and, no, I don't blame you, I never will, but- I'm tired, Rick." you confess in a whisper, " **I** 'm sick and tired of people dropping like flies and- I know it's freaking stupid but if there's even the slightest of chance that we all might be able to live on the same damn Planet without tearing each other apart then I'm more than willing to take it, no matter what it means and- God, I really don't want to leave- I- I like it here, I- I care about you guys, you all gave me so much in such a short amount of time, you did more in two weeks than my- than anyone ever did in my whole life, Rick, and I'm forever thankful for that."

You blame it on his father instincts when he wraps his arms around you the moment you start to break but you don't care why he did it, you're just glad that he did when he did and you almost immediately give into him and let yourself cry into his chest, " **I** really appreciate what you're about to do, [y/n], I really do. You're giving my kids a shot, you're giving us a shot and, for that, we'll always have your back, alright?" he speaks softly making you nod against his chest, " **Y** ou'll always be welcome here, [y/n], so, if you want to call this whole thang off, you just come back to us and we'll fight, together."

" **T** hank you, Rick." you say in a whisper before slowly getting out of his embrace, messily wiping away your tears before looking at him with a small, teary smile," **Y** ou know, for what it's worth, I'll always be here if you guys need anything. Anything at all, you just ask and I'm your gal. I promise, Rick."

" **I** hope this isn't a mistake, [y/n], honestly."

" **O** nly time will tell. But, in the meantime, I'll keep a close eye on him and if-if he does anything, if he goes back to taunting you? I'll know and you better believe that that'll be the end of him, Rick. I know where I stand and I'm not one to forget about those things." you say, almost scaring yourself as you mention killing Negan. It's not the act itself that scares you but it's the fact that you **know** for a fact that you **would** kill him that terrifies you. You're terrified because of just how much you mean that shit, you know that you **will** kill him if he ever breaks his promise and it kind of scares you but, at the same time, it appeases you to know that you care so much about Rick and his group.

You like that you know damn well where you stand, where your heart belongs, that there's no nonsense about it. It's all crystal clear.

You say goodnight to Rick and walk away from him and his house, the lights fading more and more the further you get until the moonlight eventually ends up being your only source of light as you walk down the quiet streets of Alexandria.

You stop in front of Daryl's house, unsure of what to do. You can't just walk in there like nothing happened, you can't, you don't want to, yet you're terrified at the idea of a confrontation so you simply decide to sit on the steps leading up to his porch, a long sigh leaving your mouth and goosebumps covering your skin because of the cold air of the night as the tears you've cried are slowly drying in your skin.

" **Y** ou're gonna fucking freeze out here, c'mon inside." Daryl says right behind you, making you jump slightly. You've completely zoned out and didn't even hear the front door of the house open.

" **M** 'good." you quietly mumble, too stubborn to just listen to him though he's right, you are freezing.

" **G** et inside for fuck's sake." he insists and, though he's barely raised his voice, it's enough to make you cry again. You're exhausted, your head hurts, your shoulder is killing you and you're filled with frustration and anger. At this point, a leaf grazing you could have made you cry.

" **I** can't, okay?!" you snap, " **I** can't fucking move, Dixon! My stomach is fucking killing me and I'm so tired and I- and I-I just- I just want-" you can't finish your sentence as you start to sob and immediately hide your head away into your legs before you feel Daryl's hands snaking around your waist.

" **S** hh, it's okay. I'm sorry pumpkin." he gently coos as he sits behind you on the step, his upper body completely engulfing your smaller frame, " **I** didn't mean to hurt you like that, it's just- I want you to be happy and safe. I fuckin' love you, so fuckin' much, and I know I've never said it enough but I do. Always have, Merle did too, [y/n]."

" **H** e's gone." you whisper, " **H** e's gone a-and I-I didn't even get to s-say goodbye, Daryl."

" **Y** eah, I know, baby. Me neither."

" **I** 'm sorry, Daryl. God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." you tightly grab his forearms and pull him closer to you, " **I** just want you to b-be safe, Daryl- I just want you to be safe, I swear that's all I want."

He doesn't say anything, only lifts you completely up off the steps and carries you inside, closing the front door of the house with his foot before walking you to his living room and gently sitting you on the couch there.

He sits down next to you and immediately brings you back into him, keeping your head against his chest. He used to do the same thing when you were younger because he knew that it calms you down to hear a heartbeat, you don't know why, it just does, so he just kept that little trick in mind for whenever you'd get anxious or upset and it always worked, it still does..

You slowly calm down and carefully listen to his heartbeat as his hand runs up and down your back.

" **W** here were you today, Daryl?" you ask barely above a whisper.

" **T** hey needed a hand out back at Hilltop so I went since Rick wasn't here, didn't mean to worry ya."

" **P** lease don't be mad at me, Daryl." you plead before slowly sitting back down on the couch to look at him. You carefully take one of his hand in one of your much smaller ones, "This whole... Negan thing? It's not a bad thing-"

" **Y** es, it fucking is, [y/n]-"

" **C** arl went to the Sanctuary today." you cut him off, making his brows furrow, " **H** e's killed some of Negan's men and, honestly? I'm pretty damn proud of him for doing so but, the thing is, Negan could have kill him after pulling that shit, he usually would have, Daryl."

" **W** hy the hell did he go-"

" **B** ecause he wants Negan to stay the hell away from his family, Daryl. Carl wants what a lot of people want, he wants him dead and I get it, I really do."

" **T** hen why don't ya just let us kill him, [y/n]? I know you and I can tell that you don't want this piece of shit to die so what's the fucking deal, uh?"

" **O** f course I don't want him to die, Daryl! I don't want anyone to die! I'm sick and tired of watching people die over and over again! I can't take it anymore, I don't want to live in a world where killing is the solution of every single one of our problems, Daryl!" you snap before pinching the bridge of your nose and let an heavy sigh out, " **P** lease... I just- I can't- Please, Daryl, I'm exhausted." you end up pleading, truly hurt by the fact that you might, in fact, be living in a world where killing is the best thing to do. Not to you it isn't.

"[ **Y** /n]-" Daryl starts and, when you realize that his voice is shaky, you look up only to see him tearing up and, goddamn, you swear that you can feel your heart tearing in two inside your chest.

" **I** 'm sorry, Daryl. I'm so sorry, I know I messed up-"

" **N** o. No, you didn't, you didn't."

" **H** e was drunk and dozed up, I couldn't- I couldn't get him to move and they- they just- there was so many of them, Daryl, I didn't-" you whisper, his father suddenly becoming the topic of your conversation, your mind not able to keep it together anymore.

" **Y** ou shouldn't even have bothered, [y/n]. We sure as shit didn't." he says and then an heavy yet somewhat comfortable silence falls between the two of you until he breaks it again, " **I** f he lays his hands on ya- If he ever hurts ya? I'll fucking tear him apart limb from limb, [y/n]. Are we fucking clear? **Limb from fucking limb**."

" **W** ill you let me come and visit you?" you ask, afraid that he might have meant what he'd said earlier on.

" **Y** ou fuckin' better." he says with a small smirk, making your heart lighter in a fraction of a second, " **W** e're not done re-educating your shoulder, sweetheart."

" **I** t hurts like a bitch right now if I'm being honest." you admit with a small, tired laugh.

" **I** t does? Shit, you what somethin' or-" he suddenly panics and you can feel your heart tugging in your chest when he's so quick to drop the jokes just because you said you were hurting.

" **N** o, I just- Can we- Can I get a hug, please?" you shyly ask, not wanting to come off as needy or to push your luck too far but he doesn't even seem to hesitate.

He gently lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lays down on the couch, letting you lay on his chest, your head resting right below his chin, " **W** ho am I gonna share this fuckin' house with when you'll be gone, uh?"

" **C** arol, you dumbass."

" **W** h-What?" he asks, clearly flustered and, even though you can't see it, you know that he's blushing and you can't help but giggle.

" **O** h, c'mon, lover boy, you two are like an old married couple except that you're still both really madly in love with each other, s'freaking gross."

" **Y** ou're fuckin' gross."

" **I** f you don't tell her, you'll regret it, Daryl." you say, suddenly a little more serious than you intended to be, " **S** hit gets ugly really quickly nowadays, don't let her, or anyone, really, slip away like that if there's a chance for you to be happy, Daryl... Plus, she's really fureaking cool." you finish your sentence on a lighter note, not having enough energy or will to have yet another deep conversation tonight, " **C** 'mon, I need a cool mom, okay? Michonne and Rick can't adopt me since they've already have Judith and Carl to take care of, so, c'mon! Just get with Carol and adopt me, it'll be cool. Otherwise, I don't give a fuck, I'll ask Tara and Denise to do it, or Aaron and Eric... I bet they'll be super cool parents."

" **S** hut up, [y/n]." he says with a chuckle, making your head slightly move along with his chest because of his laughter.

" **Y** ou shut up." you say in a mocked grumpy tone.

" **S** leep tight, you dumb lil' shit."

" **S** weet dreams, you fucklord."

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**8:00 AM;**

" **Y** ou didn't have to be so damn rude to them, Negan, seriously." you angrily say as you look at the window of the passenger's side of his truck.

_yup, are you are... again..._

" **O** h, c'mon, baby doll, I wasn't fucking rude." he teases with a cocky smirk, knowing that he's getting on your last nerve.

" **S** ure, okay." you spit out, ending the conversation because you know that his cockiness is about to drive you fucking mental.

You keep your head glued against the window and avoid any kind of contact with Negan. Yeah, part of you -a part of you that you wish you could murder in cold blood- finally feels whole again because he's right here, next to you, but then there's the rest and... Well, the rest isn't too fucking happy about leaving your friends, about leaving a potential new home, about not getting to see Maggie's pregnancy evolve, you just hate being outside of Alexandria because you never thought that you ever actually would find a place that you'll be able to call home and, just as you did, Negan took it away from you. He used the love you have for the people living within the walls of aforementioned place to pressure you into coming back to the Sanctuary.

The truck suddenly stops, lunching your body forward but Negan's hand catches you before you can hit the board in front of you.

" **E** asy there, doll." he says with a smirk, " **S** orry 'bout that but there's a shit-storm coming our way, baby, so-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence when you angrily grab his bat and jump out of the truck. You're so angry that you can't even feel the pain shooting through your shoulder anymore, all you feel is adrenaline, all you can see is a whole bunch of reanimated corpses heading straight for you and Negan and they're all you can fucking smell as well.

Your ears are ringing but you can still hear the sound of their rotten skull crushing under the pressure of the violent swings you take at them, Lucille's barbwire tearing their flesh off and getting all tangled up into a big mess of disgusting bits of gluts, flesh and blood.

You don't know how many you've killed but Negan ends it all when he stabs the three remaining walkers, his back stays turn to you for a while and he only turns around to show off is pearly whites in a wolfish grin, " **W** ell shit! I don't know if I fucking should but I sure as shit am rock fucking hard, right now, baby. Hot damn!"

It takes you a moment to understand what his words mean and, when you do, it doesn't really help to appease your anger, at all.

_why does he fucking keeps on throwing fuel on the goddamn fire?_

You're out of breath, dripping with fresh-ish blood and your shoulder is now meanly throbbing, reminding you just how unprepared it was for this effort and how badly you just fucked up.

As you start to walk back to the truck, your hand still tightly holding Lucille, your knuckles white, Negan keeps you from taking another step and you find yourself flinching away from him in anger.

_fuck off!_

" **G** o ahead, doll, fucking snap, I know you need to. You've got so much fuckin' anger in your lil' body, you gotta let that shit out, s'unhealthy to keep it in, baby." Negan taunts as he carefully watches your every mov _e._

_fuck off! stop talking, just, shut.the.fuck.up! i fucking hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you with every single fiber of my fucked up being!_

" **M** 'not like you! I can actually control my anger, Negan." you snarl, lying through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

" **O** h yeah? You're too fucking adorable, princess." he keeps on taunting, getting on your nerves even further, " **Y** ou're covered in guts and blood, completely out of breath, looking sexy as ever and, oh, what's that in your pretty lil' hand? Yeah, s'Lucille." he chuckles as your stance goes from tensed to about to fucking explode, " **Y** ou just bashed, what? At least thirty walkers' heads in. For what, uh? I'm gonna tell you what for, baby." he closes the gap between the two of you and you don't move a single inch even as he presses his lips right against your ear, " **I** t's because you're fucking pissed. You're pissed beyond fucking belief and you don't fucking know how to fucking deal with it, don't ya? You're angry. Yeah, you're real fucking angry, aren't ya? And you're scared of that, right? You're scared of the things you might do? Is that it, baby girl? Are you afraid that you might hurt someone? Or are you just gonna keep it all bottled inside your pretty lil' mind and let it all out on your own goddamn self later on? Is that the fucking plan? Go home and cut yourself? Y'know it's not fucking happening, right, baby?"

" **S** -stop ta-talking, Negan." you snarl out clenching your jaw some more though you're slowly losing your bite, and it almost feels like your teeth are all gonna break under the pressure you're putting them under, your small hands closing into white-knuckled fists and your eyes filling with tears of frustration, anger and sadness.

It feels like your mind just shut down, your ears are buzzing loud enough to be obnoxious but not loud enough to cover Negan's voice and words up. Your face, your hands, your cleavage, your entire goddamn body as well as your clothes are soaking in blood, fresh blood, and pieces of flesh.

" **L** et it out, [y/n]." he insists, his voice still right into your ear like a mean devil on your shoulder, " **C** 'mon, princess, let it the fuck out. Do it." he orders once before stepping away from you, " **D** o it right fucking now! Don't make me fucking repeat my goddamn self, just fucking snap already!"

" **S** hut up! Shut the fuck up!" and, just like that, he wins,  **again** , " **W** hy can't you just leave me alone! What did I ever do to you? You have a fucking harem, ain't that fucking enough?!" you cry out in anger, hot tears streaming down your face and washing some of the blood off on their way down, " **I** 'm so sick and tired of your shit, Negan! I'm sick of your fucking attitude and I'm sick-I-I'm sick of you! I hate you so fucking much, I didn't even know that I could ever hate someone like I hate you! I was happy! I was fucking happy and you took that away from me!" your grip around Lucille tightens under Negan's watchful stare, " **W** ho gave you the fucking right to take away the only good thing that ever fucking happened to me?! Who the fuck gave you the fucking right, Negan? I was fucking happy! I was-" and that's when the fight slowly starts to drain out of you, " **I**  was happy and you- you just- you just had to ruin it all, didn't you? I don't- I can't- It hurts, it hurts so bad, Negan." something in your mind seems to have completely blown and, before you can comprehend why, you start to bring Lucille down on a poor abandoned car that didn't ask for anything yet is still gonna be the victim of your anger and sadness today, " **I** t fucking hurts!" you scream out as you smash the car's windshield to pieces, " **I**  hate you, you're a fucking terrible person and I'm fucking stupid! I fucking hate me too! I'm such a fucking moron, I can't fucking understand it- I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate  **you**!" you say all while violently destroying the car in front of you, " **F** ucking hell! I hate you, Negan! I hate you with every fiber of my fucking being! There's nothing good about you and I hate you!" you slowly stop beating what's left of the poor car in front of you, your right shoulder making you pay for using it the way you just did, it hurts like a big ol' bitch but you can't let him know that, not right now.

You don't even know how because you're so lost in your anger, pain and sadness to even realize that it happened, but you get turned around as softly as a frustrated and angry Negan gets and end up face to face with him. He frowns when he sees your tear-soaked face and the pain and angry dilating your pupils as you frantically look all around you but never at  **him**.

" **Y** 'know, baby girl, I'm really starting to fucking believe that I hate you is your lil' way of saying I love you." he cockily says, making the angry fire in your stomach flicker back to life but also making you blush a deep red which he's really quick to notice, a little too quick for your liking even, " **G** od damn, I fucking love when you get mad like that, baby." he whispers, letting his forehead drop against yours though you still refuse to look up at him, " **I**  fucking love it 'cause I know damn well that no one else gets to fucking see you like this. S'just me, s'just for daddy's eyes to see and I fucking love that."

yeah, no shit no one else gets to see you like this, he's the only fucking person that angers you so fucking much, is he serious right now?

But, still, you know that, no matter how much you hate to admit it, he's right. He's right to say that you don't let anyone else see you truly angry even when you are, you don't let that many people see you cry and you sure as shit don't let your emotions out on display like that for anyone to see either. Anyone ain't him though.

" **I** 'm not going back, Negan. I'm not, I'm just not." you whisper, your breath hitting his lips as you speak.

" **W** e already fucking talked about th-"

" **N** o." you cut him off before stepping away from him, " **N** o, Negan, we didn't fucking talk about anything.  **You** 've decided that I was going to bend to your will and follow you like a fucking dog. Fuck that, fuck you."

"[ **Y** /n], baby-"

" **O** ne day you're sweet, you're here for me, you actually make it seem like you fucking care-"

" **I**  do fucking care-" he says through his clenched jaw.

" **T** hen, the very next day, you're back to being an entitled asshole." you keep going, ignoring his words to try and not let him get to you again, " **Y** ou're in love with the idea of being with five different women, you don't give a single shit about me, you treat me like I'm nothing but a price for you to fucking claim and I- I don't- Yeah, I did have a thing with Randall." you admit and, had you been looking up, you would have seen Negan's jaw clench at that, " **I**  don't fucking know what it was but I know what is sure as shit wasn't and it's sex. It wasn't about sex, it wasn't about destroying one another, it wasn't some kind of twisted, fucked up, unhealthy competition to see who'd break first, it was just... It was... It was good." you say in a whisper, "It was healthy and it- It wasn't- It wasn't something I believe I deserve, Negan, which, to be honest, I think is why I always end up with you. No matter how far I get, s'always you... Just- Always you and your fucked up ways and I- I just- I just take it because what the hell else am I supposed to do, uh? After Jason-" you make a pause to put yourself together as you feel the awful memories you've made with Jason running back to you, " **T** he night I got back, you- You asked me what I wanted you to change, right?" he silently nods at that though you don't see it because you're too busy avoid looking at him, " **A** nd I- I told you- I told you that if I ever was to be yours, I wanted it to be only you and I, no one else, right?"

" **Y** eah, you did, baby. I remember that." he says in a surprising soft voice.

" **B** ut- But I don't- I don't want a man who truly believes in that kind of lifestyle and who actually worships it and you do, Negan, you do it every day. How many times did- How-" you try, you try really hard to form that one goddamn sentence but you're scared, you're scared because you know that you're not ready for the answer. You know that, deep down, you don't want to know, you  **really**  don't.

" **N** ot every night, doll." he admits in a whisper, already knowing what your question was going to be without you needing to form it. The sorrow and disgust in your voice when you tried to gave it away.

yup, okay, that hurts. oh shit, that actually hurts like a bitch...

" **I** f- If I g-go back, I wa-want to b-be with Randall and I w-want him to-to be safe."

" **D** on't be fucking stupid, doll-"

" **N** o more "doll" or "baby" or- fuck, no more pet names, I don't- I'm- It hurts me, so, no more of that, ever. M'not yours and you sure as shit aren't mine." you state, trying your hardness to sound sharp and sure of yourself but feeling your throat clenching at the end of your sentence.

You've never, ever, thought that saying those words would hurt you so much. You thought you were prepared yet, in the very back of your mind, you really wanted to believe that he might actually make a change. It was stupid, yes, but, for a while, it made you feel a little better, helped you through the shit-storms he's put your through.

" **I**  can't, s'not happening, doll."

" **W** hy-" you take a deep, shaky breath as tears of frustration start to roll down your face once again. Why can't he let you have that one little thing? Why does he always make sure that you're alone and only for him to have access to? It fucking hurts, " **T** hen let me go back to my friends, let me go back to them and let me be happy, please. You're hurting me, Negan, and, in all honesty, I don't know how much more of you I can take." you admit in a whisper, looking down, unable to look at him, before wiping away your tears, spreading some more blood on your face.

" **H** ey, baby." Negan says disturbingly softly, his hands framing your face and bringing it up to make you look up at him, his thumbs swiping across your face to wipe your tears away, " **B** reathe baby, it's okay." he coos, carefully examining your tired and bloody face, " **I**  know I've fucked up, that's all I fucking do when it comes to you, baby girl, and- I'm fucking sorry. I know I'm fucking hurting you, I'm a fucking asshole and I don't know what to fucking do with the shit you're forcing me to feel, princess, but, goddamn, I felt so fucking empty when you left and I felt like a fucking idiot for feeling that way because I don't fucking do that. S'not me, at least it fucking wasn't 'til you've showed up." you shyly look up at him underneath your lashes, your eyes filled with tears that are threatening to spill out any minute now, " **Y** ou're so fucking pretty, my pretty baby." he whispers, his thumbs absently rubbing your cheekbones, " **I** 'm fucked up and I'm so fucking sorry that you have to deal with my shit, baby. Your lil' heart's already been through enough shit,  **you** 've already been through enough fucking shit and I shouldn't have add up to it, it ain't fair, I know that but, goddamn, you're makin' me lose my fucking mind."

" **I**  wanna go back to Alexandria, please." you plead, tired and craving Daryl's comfort.

" **A** lright, alright." he breaks with a sigh, not knowing what to do to make you better.

Negan starts to walk off and frowns when he turns back around and finds you still standing on the same spot, " **I** didn't cut my hair for safety." you admit in a whisper, your mind panicking at the thought of him actually leaving again, and it's enough to make him walk back to you, confusion written all over his face, " **Y** esterday, I told you that- That's not why I did it."

" **T** hen why d'you do it, angel face?" he softly asks, carefully taking his place back in front of you.

" **B** -because- Because I-" you let out a shaky breath and gather the courage to look up at him for two small seconds before your eyes go back to looking at the ground, " **I** had n-no marks out there. I felt so lost a-and you... You weren't there." you shyly look up at him with teary eyes, " **Y** -you weren't there, Negan, and it-it scared me and- and I thought- I thought that i-if- maybe if I changed something about m-me then I'll be able to sh-shake you off but- It didn't work 'cause it's not about me, Negan."

You end up breaking down in tears, your body flinching when Negan pulls you into his arms, quickly lifting you up and your legs naturally wrap themselves up around his waist, your arms finding their place around his neck and your head going to hide away into the crook of his neck.

" **M** 'here now, baby." he whispers right into your ear, " **Y** ou ain't got shit to be scared of, alright? I got you, princess, it's okay. Shh, you're okay, baby." he coos when you sob into his neck, "Shh, c'mon now, pretty girl, you know I fucking hate it when you cry."

_no, actually, i didn't know._

You cry yourself out into his neck, your tears soaking his skin as well as his t-shirt but he doesn't seem to mind at all, he just keep rocking you back and forth, gently hushing you until he starts to whisper stupid jokes into your ear and he finally gets what he wants; a giggle out of you, a real one, even though it's muffled because your head is still buried in the crook of his neck.

" **I** 'll make it all better. Y'know I will, baby girl." he says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, " **B** ut, right now? All I fucking want is to take you home, take care of your wounds, take a warm fucking bath with you and have a lil' talk, a calm one. Y'think you can do that for me, baby?"

You slowly push your head away from the crook of his neck to look at him and nod your head, your hands softly sliding up his neck to get into his hair before getting a tight grip on them as you silently crave his lips and he seems to understand because he gives you a shit eating grin and pushes his head further towards yours to capture your lips, one of his hands snaking to the back of your head while the other rests right above your bum.

You don't know why it feels like damn right when you know damn well that he will hurt you again, **you know he will**. You don't know what he wants from you but you're willing to stick around until he figures things out, at least for now.

You know that you'll get sick of getting hurt over and over again eventually, you know you will and you're bracing yourself for that day yet you keep on doing your very best to try and push it away as far as possible, to make the fucked up thing you two have going on last for as long as it can, no matter how unhealthy it is.

Worst thing is; he's the one in control here, you've lost control on this whole situation the moment he first kissed you and you know that, he probably does to. You know that, if he really wants you to be his and his only, if he really cares about you, he'll do what he knows needs to be done and, if not, then, you keep Rick's words in mind.

You're not alone anymore and he won't get to make you believe so, **not anymore**.

 

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**(psss, here's a lil sneak-peak for what's to come in the next chapter, just cos I can and I'm a piece of shit, okay, buh-bye)**

**(so, yeah, I guess if you don't like spoilers... don't read that last part, you're not missing out on anything, baby, it'll be in the next chapter -obviously-)**

**(okay now, buh-bye for real)**

 

 

 

[...]

" **Y** ou wanna go back to your husband or not?"

" **W** hat?" she [Laihla] asks, every emotion on her face fading away as she looks at Negan, praying for him to actually have said what she thinks he's just said.

" **I** f you want to go back to your husband, get your shit and go see Simon. He'll give you a room and you'll get to choose a job, alright?"

" **A** re you serious? Negan, if this is some sick joke I'm not-"

" **L** isten, you're the only pair of boobs on this floor that's actually gonna stay here, at the Sanctuary, sweetheart. The others are going either out there or they'll go join a community working for me, I don't really give a shit, I just don't fucking want them near my girl."

" **S** eriously? Negan-"

" **P** ack your shit, Laihla. Oh, and- Don't tell anyone out there, alright? Only you, Faith, Dwight and Simon know, so, keep it down."

[...]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! SO! Here's chapter twenty-one for ya, I hope that you liked it, I actually had a blast writing it.  
> ALSO!!! Yeah, I know I said that I might post this chapter earlier and whatnot BUT then I thought "Eeeeeeeeh, i dunno, dude" yeah, 'cause, y'know, I feel like it would have make the wait between this one and the other even longer and all that, so, yeah. I'm just sticking with posting every week-ends.
> 
> ANYWAY! How are you all doing? I honestly feel like crap covered in crap (cos I'm that fucking extra, come at me) but, y'know, I've had worse, way worse, plus, my eyes are giving me a bit of a break so, hey, that's positive, y'know? Yeeeah, you do.
> 
> If you're having a shit day, here, have a Finn with a lil' Jake; | (• ◡•)| (❍ᴥ❍ʋ) -i am a grown person, i swear... okay, no i'm not, i suck at being adult and whatnot, whatcha gonna do?-
> 
> But, yeah, take care of yourselves, I loooooove you, I hope you're all doing amazing and if not, do not hesitate to talk to me, I'm always there for you, all of you and, no, I can't promise you that I'll be of any help but, hey, who knows, right? Sometimes you just need to talk to someone who actually understands you and what you're going through (which I might not always do but I'm more than happy to learn about people's struggles, always.)
> 
> Educate yourselves, babycakes!
> 
> I love you, stay safe (◕3◕✿)


	22. Bearing her scars //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi... so... yeah, I'm still alive... and, well, I hope you guys aren't too mad at me for the extremely long wait... I'm the worst, I know, it's just- I had to deal with a bunch of anxiety that literally came out of nowhere a few weeks ago and, well, as you can probably tell, I didn't handle it well... at all... I freaked out, I didn't know what to do because it's been such a long time since I last had to deal with such a strong anxiety attack and- yeah, I was lost and honestly I was in no condition to write, at all. Every time I would actually sit down and try to write for a while, I always ended up in tears because I either would get distracted (a.d.d, hi, how you doin' you lil bitch) or because I felt like I just couldn't write for shit (self esteem who?) so, yeah, I basically would erase the whole thing, even if I just wrote a whole freaking chapter, I would still delete it all because it was never good enough for me. So, yeah, I had to take a break from even thinking about trying to write because it was slowly becoming a source of anxiety for me and I do not want that, at all. I love to write and I want to keep it that way.
> 
> But, yeah, anyway! I hope you guys will enjoy this new chapter, I honestly almost deleted this one too but I kinda forced myself to post it so, yeah, let's just say that I have mixed feelings about it.
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING // THERE'S PHYSICAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER SO, PLEASE, READ WITH CAUTION, I KNOW THAT KIND OF SHIT CAN BE REALLY HARD TO GO THROUGH BUT, DON'T WORRY, I DID NOT PUT ANY DETAILS OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT IN IT.
> 
> ps // this chapter is... well, it's dirty (smut, there's smut)... s'about to get a whole lot dirtier though... yeah... i need jesus.

**11:00** **AM** **//**

You don't know what to feel; satisfaction for finding an harmless (?) way to get Negan off of Rick family's back, sadness for being back to this damned place or guilt for falling right back into his arms without even thinking about all the efforts it took for you to actually get out of this whole situation in the first place.

_two months, i say we've had a good run... though you fucked it all up in the end... fuck's sake..._

You feel like crap as you let Negan carry you around the place, his breath hitting your bare neck as your head rests heavily on the dip of his shoulder, your eyes screwed shut and you're trying hard not to let yourself cry again, trying hard to forget where you are and **why**  but his smell, his touch, his breath, the raw scratching of his sharp stubble rubbing against your delicate skin all keep you from doing so.

Your entire being is in pain and you want nothing more than to numb it all. You want it to stop, you need it to stop.

You hate to admit it but, you wish that Negan would have snapped at you after your earlier outburst on the way back. You don't know why but, because he didn't, you feel like you're in the wrong. It feels like there's a whole lot of tension left between the two of you, like he's ready to drop a fucking bomb on you the second you'll get out of line again, you just need for him to let his anger out if he has any in him at the moment, which you know he probably does, and you don't care if it hurts you when he does. You need it to reassure yourself that nothing has been left unsaid or that he won't lose his shit on you for no goddamn reason because he would have kept that anger bottled up for too long.

It scares you. The fact that he didn't blow a fucking fuse on you **scares**  the living hell out of you and you know that it's not normal but it's there and you're forced to feel that toxic feeling of guilt mixed with pure and sheer fear.

His grip on you is tight but it's way more in a possessive way than it is in a mean, angry way and you can't help the mess happening in your stomach as you let yourself relax a little against his chest, " **T** hatta girl." you hear him coo as soon as he feels you relaxing the tiniest bit against him, a smirk apparent in his voice.

You have to admit, the fact that he knows you so well, that he knows your body so well, freaks you out a little. He always knows when you're nervous, angry, upset, excited, anxious or happy, sometimes way before you even get the chance to feel it yourself but what really gets to you is that you've come to realized that; he's also the only person who knows how to reassure you, recomfort you, make you blow a fucking fuse (he's particularly good with that one), relax you and also make you laugh even though you don't feel like it. It scares you how much control he actually has over you if you really think about it... Which is why you usually avoid doing such thing.

It's odd, you never thought that this man could ever be anything close to good for you though, let's be honest, when it all comes down to it, you know the bad **easily** outweighs the good, you're not stupid. The two of you did go through a lot of changes since you've first met three month and a half ago though and there's no denying that you're not in the same place you used to be. After all, you two did have a **real** fucking rocky start, there's no denying that.

" **W** hat'cha thinking about, angel?" he asks, his gravelly voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

" **H** ow much of a pain in my butt you are." you whisper, giggling when you hear him chuckle, his chest vibrating with the sound.

" **A** w, c'mon, baby, you gotta give a man some credit. I  went goddamn soft on you and God fucking knows that I'm anythin' but whenever you're around."

You don't say anything back, just bury your head into the crook of his neck and let yourself blush furiously, " **M** 'tired, Negan." you whimper into his neck, making him chuckle.

" **Y** eah, no shit, baby. Don't worry, daddy's gonna take care of ya." he says right into your ear, kissing your temple before getting an even tighter grip on you and pushing you further against his chest which you didn't think was physically possible at this point but you're not complaining.

He carries you the rest of the way to God knows where and your head only snaps up to look at your surroundings when you hear a door being locked and a certain smell invades your nostrils. You know that smell, it's Negan's, it's all Negan.

You look around and it doesn't take you long to realize that he's dragged you back into his bedroom, not his office, his apartment, the same place he locked you in about two months ago after he fucking snapped at you and you can feel a knot in your stomach tightening and twisting your gut around.

" **Y** -you can p-put me down n-now, Negan."

He doesn't say anything, he actually completely ignores your words and carries you to the gigantic bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and you can't help but blush when you spot the huge bed just laying in the middle of the room, jealousy and hurt taking over you as your mind reminds you of the other women he's been with while you were gone.

" **P** ut me down, Negan." you repeat, this time way more firmly, making it clear that this is not a request but a fucking order.

_gettin' sick of his shit yet or...?_

" **W** ould'ya fucking relax for a second, doll?" he nonchalantly says as he finally lets go of you, waits for you to balance yourself and gives you a challenging look as he clearly doesn't believe that you can actually walk by yourself, " **G** o ahead, then. You wanna be a big girl and do shit all by yourself? Go ahead." his voice is calm but filled with challenge.

_do not take one fucking step, [y/n]. you can't feel your fucking legs so just admit that today ain't the day and don't give him the satisfaction to see you fall flat on your ass, i swear to god-_

You know he's right, your body is aching and way too sore to actually be able to carry you, at least not as stability as you need it to, but your stubborn nature isn't having it. You shut your mind down and decide to do the complete opposite of what your own brain is screaming you to do; you take a step forward.

You actually manage to get to the sink before your legs completely give out underneath you and you're that close to falling flat on your ass when Negan's hands wrap themselves around your waist to secure you and you don't even find the strength to look up so you keep on looking down at your dirty boots.

" **Y** ou're gonna tell me what's goin' on with you, baby? Or am I gonna have to get that shit out of you again?" he asks, his voice low against the shell of your right ear and, no matter how hard you try, you can't help the shivers running down your spine and, of course, he feels them.

" **W** hat's the catch, Negan?" you ask in a whisper, still looking down at your black combats boots like they're the next best thing.

_uh, excuse me? they are?_

" **E** xcuse me-"

" **Y** ou're gonna tell me that you're okay with giving something up?" you start, finally pushing your head up so you're looking at his reflection on the huge mirror in front of you and you have to screw your eyes shut for a second to keep your composure at the sight of him so damn close to you, holding you from behind and looking straight back at you through the mirror, " **Y** ou? Negan? The same man that can't stand the fact that someone else found a stupid piece of gum before he did? You're gonna tell me that I'm supposed to just take your words for it when it comes to Rick and his family? Really? 'Cause I don't believe it so, if there's something that you didn't tell me before, tell me. Please, tell me what's really going on, Negan."

" **L** isten, baby girl." he starts, still keeping your back flushed against his chest, his voice still right behind your right ear as he keeps eye contact with you through your reflections in the mirror, " **I** never do that kind of shit, ever, so, how about you just take it for what it fucking is and stop overthinkin' shit for once, uh?"

" **T** hat's ea-easy for you t-to say." you whisper before dropping your head back down, not able to keep up with the intensity of his stare any longer.

" **Y** ou wanna know what the fucking catch is, doll?" you feel his grip on you tightening and his lips pressing a little more firmly against the shell of your ear, " **T** he fucking catch is that you're here to stay whether you like it or not because that's the fucking deal, isn't it? I leave your lil' friends alone as long as you keep on being a good girl for me but, you run off again? I won't be responsible for what'll happen to those shitheads, baby." he says before kissing the side of your neck, making you whimper, " **N** ow, are you gonna let me clean your damn wounds and take care of ya or do you want us to argue about the fuckin' weather, doll?" he teasingly asks with a smirk.

_don't laugh._

" **W-** Well, what if I wanna argue about the stupid weather?" you ask with a small smile, trying hard to not let yourself laugh or even smile too much, after all, you're supposed to be mad at him right now.

" **O** h, doll." he starts with a chuckle, " **Y** ou're not doin' this shit to me, no fuckin' way."

He carefully turns you around for you to face him and kisses your forehead, making your eyes flutter at the gesture, before carefully lifting you up into one of the bathroom's marble counter tops, a just as fancy looking sink sank in the middle one.

You take some time to look around the room as Negan turns his back to you to and look around for some medical supplies to clean your wounds.

It's luxurious to say the least; white tiles are covering the floor, there's a huge mirror adorned with gold on the wall right behind your back, a huge, clean, white, bathtub, and you blush at the mere sight of it as it reminds you of the best slash worst night you've had with him, a shower protected by glass doors and you already know that he has hot water, again, you've got the chance to use said hot water when you took a bath in that gigantic tub, the whole Sanctuary does as well yet you can't recall the communal showers being all that fancy. They're not.

_how can this man ever complain about anything? does he even realize how lucky he is? lol, no, what the fuck kind of question is that?_

You've never lived in any kind of luxury, ever. And you have to admit that, it feels kind of wrong that this type of bourgeoisie still exists in this ruin of a world that you're living in. It felt odd to you before the world when bunk because you knew that some people where out there, living in the street and falling asleep on cold, hard concrete but, nowadays? It just feels unnecessary, vain and pretty damn stupid.

" **A** lright, baby, lemme see you." Negan demands as he puts a bunch of medical stuff on the counter next to the one you're sitting on top of and kneels down to take your boots and socks off, carefully inspecting your ankles.

" **S** 'weird to see you on your knees." you tease in a whisper, referring to the stupid habit he has to always make people kneel in front of him like he's all that.

" **T** hat mouth o' yours is gonna get you into some shit, baby girl. Y'realize that, right?" he says with a chuckle but you know that he also means what he said, he **always** does.

He stands back up and takes a good long look at your face before reaching for your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down before pilling the thick piece of denim off of you, letting it drop on the floor without a care. You immediately feel extremely uncomfortable and try to hide your thighs but Negan seems to have other plans for you as he gently takes your hands away from your thighs and put them on each side of your legs before carefully reaching for them to run his hands up and down the smooth skin.

" **I** fuckin' love your thighs, baby girl. They're so fucking soft and chubby." you internally cringe at that, not liking him mentioning your "chubbiness" oh so casually because it's unsettling to you, " **I** fucking love it and I fucking hate that you don't see it, princess." he finishes, his voice raspier than it natural already is.

Keeping his eyes on your face though you're doing your best not to make eye contact with, he carefully reaches for the hem of your top to get rid of it and carelessly throws it on the floor for it to join your jeans, socks and boots when you don't say nor make a move to stop him.

His hands immediately grab yours to keep you from covering yourself up which you were just about to do, " **G** od fucking damn." his voice is so low and rough by now that it's covering your skin with goosebumps and making your legs shake, " **I** 'm fucking obsessed with your tummy, baby." he's not touching you, he's just looking at you and you don't think your cheeks have ever burned so damn hot in your entire life as you silently pray for a hole to open and swallow you, " **I** mean, damn, look at it. T'so fucking soft, there's just something about it, I fucking love it."  he whispering as he talks but his voice is so raw that he might as well be shouting. 

His hands carefully let go of yours and you twitch and jump when when he brings them up to gently run up and down your upper body's sides. His eyes keep on going back and forth between your timid eyes and your breast heavily moving up and down as you seem to be having a hard time breathing properly.

None of you say a word, you just keep looking at each other and you've got to hand it to yourself, this is the first time that you've actually hold eye contact for so long without feeling like crying or feeling awkward about it, you just can't look away and you don't really want to anyway because looking you would mean looking down and down are Negan's hands roaming over your barely covered body.

Your body twitches again when Negan's hands snake around your waist and up your back, his eyes staying on yours the whole time, making sure that you're okay with what he's doing but, if you're being completely honest, not only are you completely frozen on the spot but you're also not a hundred percent sure of where this is all heading.

That is until you feel your bra snap open, the straps loosely slipping off your shoulder and you don't dare to move by fear that your bra might completely fall of if you do, yet, when Negan hooks one of his fingers right in the middle of the piece of lingerie, you don't fight him. You let him pull the material off of your shoulders, internally screaming as you feel the straps sliding against your arms the whole way down, and watch as he carelessly throws the bra on the ground and you're surprised but also extremely intimidated by the fact that his eyes still haven't moved, they're still looking straight into yours and you know that's his way of making sure that you're okay with the situation.

When you don't say nor do anything to stop him, he tries to gently drag you to him but, Negan being Negan, he ends up showing way more greed and lust than he first intended to as his hands wrap themselves around the back of each one of your thighs before forcefully dragging you across the marble covered counter until you're sitting right on the edge of it, neither of you breaking the silence in the room as you just keep on looking at each other.

That is until Negan's eyes finally give your eyes a break only to fall on your pierced breasts which he seems to enjoy a whole lot. So much so that, not even a complete second passes by when you see him leaning down, a needy whimper leaving your mouth the second his lips wrap themselves around one of your already swollen nipples.

You can't really control yourself as your legs wrap themselves around his waist all on their own and one of your hands immediately finds refuge on the back of his head, your nails scratching his scalp, making him groan against your oversensitive bud, the raw sound only causing your legs to tighten around him and your fingers to pull a little more harshly on his hair.

" **N** -Negan-" you start but don't finish because you're not even sure what you even wanted to tell him in the first place anyway.

" **W** hat is it, princess?" he asks as he lets go of your left nipple with an almost obscene popping sound only to go and kiss the middle of your chest and he doesn't even wait for you to actually answer him before his mouth almost hungrily wraps itself around your right nipple to give it the same treatment he gave its twin.

" **I** j-just- Fuck- I-" you try to tell him that you don't know how to deal with what he's giving you right now but it's all too much for you to even form a sentence and you don't know if that's normal or not. You don't know if you should really get that much pleasure out of this as you are but it feels too damn good for you to be willing to question it.

You can feel the bastard smirking against your skin and you usually would want to slap his face off but, right now, all you can do is tighten your grip on his hair and pull on them to urge him on.

Even though you don't know what the point of this whole operation is, you're really starting to question the amount of pleasure you're getting out of it when you feel your legs starting to shake and your back arching up, getting a low grunt out of Negan and a messy whimper out of you.

Stronger, louder sounds are stuck in your throat but you're afraid to let them out because it feels like you're about to scream or cry or both at the same damn time so you only let them out little by little but, eventually, Negan bites down on your swollen nipple before pulling on the barbell going through it and that's all it takes for you to actually let out your first real moan and you're not sure who's more relieved by it, you or Negan.

" **G** od damn it, baby, you're gonna fuckin' kill me." he hisses with a snarl as he lets go of your nipple, making you whimper in need for some more but he ignores your cries and gives you a smirk before pushing your head to the side to gain access to your neck.

He then proceeds to harshly bite down on that special spot on the left side of your face, right below your jaw bone, and you can actually feel a tear roll down your cheek as it all becomes a little too much for you to handle but it gets even worse when you feel his free hand snaking down in your undies, one of his fingers attacking the same bundle of nerves his tongue and thumb weres the last time you two got intimate, " **Y** ou're fucking soaked, baby girl." he growls out, his voice low and quite frankly intimidating and you immediately feel like a child getting scold even though it wasn't his attention to make you feel that way. You feel like you've done something wrong and he immediately catches on, " **H** ey, s'not a bad thing, baby. You didn't do anything wrong." he starts with a small but deep chuckle, " **T** hough, good girls don't do that kind of shit now, do they?"

" **I** -I d-don't kn-know." you whimper, barely making it through the damn sentence as Negan keeps on harshly rubbing the pad of his finger on your already swollen clit.

" **N** o, sweet thing, they fucking don't. Y'know what else good girls don't fucking do?" he asks, his voice getting even lower and you realize that, right now, right fucking now, is the moment when he decides to lecture you for running away, for being around Randall too much, for talking back to him, and you fucking hate him for that but you can't really concentrate on feeling hatred for him when he switches the finger working on your sensitive bud with his thumb only to harshly press the pad of the big digit flat against your clit, completely covering it and rubbing circles on it at a deadly slow pace, leaving you a whimpering, crying mess, " **T** hey don't fuckin' run away from home, baby." you can tell that he's angry and you don't know if his lust is actually gonna calm him down a little or only gonna make things worse for you, " **I** 'm supposed to be the one takin' care of you, princess. That's all fucking me, not Randall, not Dwight, not Simon, nobody else but me, that's **my** fuckin' job, we clear?"

" **Y** -yes." you whisper as one of your shaking hands gets a hold of the wrist of the hand Negan has in your undies but he doesn't let up and that fine by you before you're not sure you want him to stop nor be more gentle anyway. All you know for certain is that you need to touch him. You need something to keep you grounded.

" **W** ho're you talking to, sweetheart?" he asks as he finally brings his head back up to look at you, his lips leaving your throat and you have to fight a disapproving whimper and the loss, his eyes darker than they normally are and that's enough to turn you to putty in his hands though you both know that you were done for the moment he'd touched your thighs.

" **Y** -yes, d-daddy, m'sorry."

" **G** ood girl." he praises and smirks when he feels your clit throb at the praise. He makes a mental note to test out if his girl actually has a praise kink later on, " **D** 'you know how fucking angry I get at the fucking thought of someone else cutting your damn hair? Breathing too fucking close to you? Helping you do shit I'm supposed to be there for?" his free hand settles right below your jaw, keeping you from looking away as he scolds you, " **C** leanin' your fuckin' wounds? Making you giggle like a damn kid? You have no fucking idea how much that pisses me off, baby, I can't fucking stand it. Those are things for me and only me to fucking do. You're mine and that's that." he firmly says before crushing his lips against yours in a clearly angry, lustful, needy yet somewhat caring kiss.

It's all tongue and teeth, whimpers from you and groans from him. You pulling on his hair and his hand slides down your jaw to wrap around your throat making you shiver and moan into his mouth, your reaction only turning him on some more and you both let you a noise of your own when one of his fingers slips past your lips, only pushing the very first phalanx of his pointer finger in and letting it rest there.

" **Y** ou alright with me touchin' you there, baby girl?" he breaks the kiss to ask you, letting his forehead rest on yours so that he can watch your face. He smirks when you nod frantically but don't give him a verbal answer, " **N** uh-uh, use your big girl's words, [y/n]." he can't help but chuckle when your cheeks turn an even deeper crimson red but feeling the warmth of your core on the very tip of his finger and not being able to completely sink it in is driving him mental, " **C** 'mon, baby, use your words and daddy'll give ya what you need."

" **I** \- I'm-" you screw your eyes shut and push your forehead further against his, nudging his nose with yours as you try to ground yourself even to form a proper sentence, " **W** ant you to-to touch me th-there. Please, d-daddy." you finally let out, panting at the effort like you've just run a marathon.

"There, where, baby?" he taunts before inching his finger further in but not even to the first knuckle yet. The sudden movement makes your legs twitch and tears a whine out of you, making Negan's smirk grow from cocky to feral, "Right there, sweetheart?"

You know is getting a kick out of watching you squirm and break right in front of him but you don't really give a shit right now, you'll beg until there's nothing but dust left of your pride if it seems he keeps on with his ministrations.

You mewl out a "Please." before leaving a soft kiss on his lips and that's all it takes from him to stop torturing the both of you. Pressing his lips back on yours, he finally starts to gently work his pointer finger in your soaked, slicked channel, pushing the digit further in each time he thrusts it back inside, his thumb keeping on stimulating your clit to distract you from the slight possible pain of his not-so-thin-at-all finger stretching your walls out until it's eventually sheathed all the way to the last knuckle and the rest of his hand is resting against your soft inner-thigh.

Your legs twitch at the alien feeling, the single digit thick enough to make you feel a considerable stretch but you eventually find yourself giving in and slowly start to relax when you feel no pain whatsoever, only the discomfort of your untouched entrance being utilized and stretched for the first time.

" **H** ow we doin', baby girl?" he asks, his voice right into your ear, making your shiver and tighten your grip on his hair as his thumb doesn't let up and keeps on gently rubbing your clit.

" **D** -daddy- P-please, m-more." you whisper against his lips and let him kiss you breathless, his free hand getting a firm hold on the back of your head to keep you from pulling away.

You audibly gasp into the heated kiss and feel you belly clench when Negan's finger starts to work you in the best way possible and what started as a weird, foreign and uncomfortable feeling ends up turning into pure pleasure and you actually feel like it's not quite enough for you anymore, you need more, you crave more but don't know what that implies.

" **F** uck, baby girl." he growls with a snarl, pulling away from the kiss to look down where his finger pushes in and out of you, groaning at the sight of the digit coming out soaked in your arousal each time.

Wiggling your legs around, you try and get closer to him and it's physically impossible for you to do so and you let out a frustrated whine when you realize it which only seems to amuse Negan, the deep chuckle he gives being enough of an indication, " **P** -Please." is the only word you can think of, the only word you manage to let out, the only word that actually makes sense to your lust clouded mind.

" **P** lease what, pretty girl?" he asks, keeping on thrusting his finger in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, " **W** hat is it, [y/n]?"

Again, all you can do is whine and try to push the two of you closer together though it's already been established that it's not possible at this point. You're about to protest when you feel Negan's finger coming to a stop but you don't get to as the digit curls up against your front wall, the new sensation making you gasp and jump against Negan's body, " **S** hh, baby. Daddy knows what ya need. Now, be a good girl and let him take care of you, yeah?" he formulated his sentence like a question but you know it isn't one.

Still, you frantically nod in acknowledgement and let your head fall into the crook of his neck, whining against his skin as he alters between thrusting his finger and pushing the pad of it flat against your front wall, applying more or less pressure each time and,soon enough, you feel a second finger joining in, whimpering at the sharp burning sensation of your untouched entrance being stretched out by Negan's thick fingers.

He's not as slow this time around though he stays carefully as he pushes his middle finger alongside his index, frowning and groaning at the extremely tight fit as he watches the digit disappear into you and finally settle next to his pointer finger between your soaked, soft inner-walls.

He watches your legs shake, straining to close around his hand but his body standing between them is keeping them wide open for him to do as he pleases and watch your drip down on his fingers to his heart's content. Looking up at your face, he carefully watches your expression for any sign of pain or discomfort as he experimentally starts to move both of his fingers, dragging them against your walls as he retreats them almost putting them out before pushing them both back in at the same time, not stopping until both digits are in to the last knuckle.

" **N** -Negan!" you cry out, finally speaking up, and he growls at the squelching sound of your arousal coating his fingers as he starts to carefully thrust them in and out of your tight channel, " **O** h God." you squeak out, your voice embarrassingly high-pitched but neither of you seem to give two shit, " **P** l-please- Daddy, please!"

" **Y** ou're so fucking tight, baby girl." he growls out, his eyes finally leaving your soaked pussy to focus back on your face, " **G** onna have to stretch you the hell out before I get to fuck the livin' hell out of you 'cause, right now, I seriously doubt that my dick wouldn't hurt you and I'm not willin' to take that fucking chance no matter how fucking badly I want to take you right here, right fucking now."

" **F** uck-" is all you manage to squeak out as he twists his fingers around, the pads of the digits dragging against your front wall.

" **D** on't you ever let me fucking hear about you kissing another man again, baby, we clear? You're all fucking mine." he snarls out, thrusting his fingers with more vigor, the obscene sound of your own arousal making your cheeks burn, " **D** 'you have any idea how badly I want to bash that stupid fucking kid's head in for even running off with you, uh?" he spits out through a tightly clenched jaw.

" **I** -I'm so-sorry, daddy."

" **A** re you, baby girl?" he asks with a dark smirk, enjoying watching you break right in front of him.

" **Y** -yes- fuck!" you cry out as he starts scissoring his fingers, stretching you even further, " **Y** es, I a-am."

" **D** id he help you eat, princess? Huh? Did he?" he's starting to put more and more force and pressure behind each movement of his fingers now, " **D** id he fucking help you with that? Did he help you like I fucking do or do I still have that to my own goddamn self, baby? Or did you forget who you fucking belong to? Is that it?" he asks, bringing his head down in the crook of your neck, grazing the sensitive skin with bare teeth, " **N** o, 'cause if that's the fuckin' case, I can remind you real quick, princess."

" **N** -no, daddy, m'sorry, m'sorry! I'm yours, m'all yours." you whimper, tears blurring your vision and, at this point, your brain feels like putty and you don't know what you're crying about anymore.

" **G** ood girl." he praises, feeling your walls clench down on his fingers and making him growl as he leaves yet another mark on the column of your throat before pulling away to admire his work only to find you looking back at him with glossy eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips and a small frown of pleasure wrinkling your forehead, " **Y** ou know damn well that he'll never be able to make you feel the way I do, baby, **ever**." he plants a quick but sweet kiss on your lips before stepping a little away from you to get a good look at you, " **L** ook at you," he coos with a smirk, "you're dripping on my fucking floor, princess. Goddamn. You're so fucking pretty, you don't know just how fucking hot you are, do ya? No, you don't fucking know and it's a fucking insult to your goddamn self, baby." with the sudden urge to mark you some more, he leans back towards you and attaches his lips back to your throat, making you mewl and whine beneath him, " **G** ood God, baby, you're so fucking wet I can fucking hear it from here, I don't even need to look at it. You're a dirty one, aren't ya? Or maybe it's just me, maybe I really did my good little girl up." you can feel the smirk on his lips against your skin as he speaks but you don't care, his cockiness suddenly not so much of a bother for you anymore.

" **D** -d-daddy, I- Fuck- Please!" you plead as you feel your stomach tightening because of his words.

" **Y** eah, I feel ya, baby." he says with a snarls as he nudges your head to the side with his nose so he can bite down on your jaw, " **Y** ou wanna cum, don't ya, sweet thing? Yeah, I bet you do. Your lil' pussy is clenching up a storm. Hell, I can barely move my fucking fingers, doll." he pulls back from your jaw and brings your head back to his with his free hand, the smirk on his lips letting you know that he's up to no good, " **S** 'okay, princess, you can cum if you want-" he pauses and gets right in front of your face, the tip of his nose touching yours, " **Y** ou can cum all you fucking want and make a fucking mess if you ask daddy for permission first-"

" **P** -please, d-daddy Let-let me c-cum, pl-please! Please!" you cut him off to beg desperately as you feel your toes starting to curl and the tight coil in your belly about to snap and break you in half. 

" **W** ithout stuttering, princess." he whispers roughly, finishing the sentence that you didn't give him the time to before you cut him off and you let out an actual sob at his instruction.

You know damn well it's happening, it just isn't. You can't even form a proper **thought** , how the hell are you supposed to come up with a full **sentence** and then proceed to actually say it out loud **without** stuttering? This is a nightmare. You find yourself trapped between your overwhelming need to just let yourself get consumed by the pleasure Negan is giving you and your probably extremely unhealthy need to be good for him and make him proud.

" **C** 'mon, baby, I know you can do it." he coos, pushing the few damp locks of hair that fell and stuck to your forehead, " **A** nd I also know damn well that you wouldn't dare fucking cum without daddy's permission now, would ya?" he asks with a smirk, knowing damn well that you would actually be upset to fail the task he just gave you and it amuses him just as much as it turns him on.

" **F** uck- I - Please!" you cry out, letting your head fall against his, your sweat-slick forehead resting against his and your parted lips only centimeters away from his.

" **S** hh, baby, I got you. You're okay." he coos before wiping away the few tears that are escaping your eyes as frustration and fatigue start to take a toll on you and he only makes it worse when he pushes his fingers even further into you, his knuckles flush against the swollen lips of your pussy, and, as his fingers reach deeper into you, the pad of his index pushes right into a spot that makes you arch your back against the mirror behind you and makes your legs shake some more, " **Y** eah, daddy found his girl's ticklish spot, didn't he?" he teasingly asks with a dark smirk on his lips, pushing the pad of his finger on that specific spot over and over again, applying more and more pressure each time to try and push you over that edge.

" **M** -fuck! More, p-please, daddy." you beg as your eyes tightly close together and your back arch some more, making your breast pop out much to Negan's pleasure.

" **R** elax, princess, it's okay. Just say the words and I'll give you just what you need." he softly says though his voice is raw and sharp, changing the subject so that he doesn't have to explain to you that if he pushes his fingers further into you he might break your hymen and he doesn't want that, not for you, but he doesn't know how to explain it to you nor does he have the willpower to right now.

" **D** addy, please- Lemme cum, please!" you finally push out, panting and gasping under his ministrations.

" **G** ood girl." he whispers against the skin of your neck before harshly biting down on it, " **G** o ahead, baby. Make a fucking mess on daddy's fingers." is all he needs to say for you to finally let go and it feels like you're on fire for a short second, the rest of the way is pure ecstasy for the two of you.

For you because you finally get what you so badly needed and it feels like nothing Negan ever did to you so far, it feels way better, almost too good. And for him because he gets to see you break down right in front of him and, this time, it's in the best way possible. He gets to take it all in, to help you ride out your high until the very end, he finally gets to feels you, to have you clenching around his fingers, begging for more and even cry in pleasure and **he** 's the cause of it, **him and him only**.

His fingers carefully slow their pace down as he helps you slowly come down from your orgasm and you find yourself whimpering when his fingers leave you to feel completely empty and you don't like it one bit but your mind finds something else to focus on when you spot Negan sucking one of his fingers clean only to smirk at you and extend his middle finger out to you.

" **Y** ou wanna taste, baby girl?"

" **T** -taste wh-what?" you ask, still panting as you struggle to catch your breath, not knowing that you actually **did** make a mess on his fingers and on the counter you're sitting on.

" **Y** ou, baby." he says with a smirk and a chuckle, " **O** pen up, sweetheart." he softly demands and you don't question him, your mind is way too far gone for you to question anything at the moment.

You open your mouth slightly and let him slip his soaked finger in it, your mouth closing itself up around the thick finger on its own and you find yourself licking the digit clean and even suck on it, only realizing it when you hear Negan growl in front of you and, no, you don't get it but you don't need to be a fucking genius to understand that this must be sexual in some way. **It is** , **a whole lot**.

" **S** 'weird." you shyly whisper after Negan withdraw his finger from your lips with a yet pop, your cheeks burning up at the realization of what just happened.

" **Y** eah?" he asks with a chuckle, clearly amused by your flustered state, " **W** ell, I don't care if you don't like it, baby girl. S'more for me and, good fucking God, do I love that shit. I'm seriously considering having you walk around with no panties anymore just so that I'll have an easy access to you and I'll be able to eat the living hell out of you to my heart's content whenever I fucking want. Damn, wouldn't that be the life, baby."

You both stare at each other for a good ten minutes before you realize that you become hyper-aware of your butt naked state and your cheeks are quick to turn to a deep red, making Negan laugh at your expanse, " **A** lright, doll, let me take a look at you then I'll run you a bath, yeah?"

" **O** -okay, yes. Thank you."

" **Y** ou got it, baby." he says before kissing your lips in an oddly soft manner and you're quick to kiss him right back just to let him know that you're okay with what just happened.

A few minutes have passed when Negan's done cleaning all of your wounds, your pain waking right up the second he'd touched the bullet wound on your shoulder and on your tummy but he cleaned them nonetheless. No matter how many times you've begged for him to stop because the pain was too much though he apologized afterwards and started to press feather like kisses all over you face which was something none of you actually thought would ever happen, it's a side of Negan even he didn't know about.

You don't understand how something can be so good yet so fucking terrible. It's messing with your head, you don't understand it and it scares you. Whatever you're feeling right now scares the living hell out of you yet you don't want it to disappear, you don't want him to disappear.

_but he will, won't he?_

 

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 **1:00** **PM** **//**

Negan is the first one to wake up from the power nap you two've decided to take after he took care of you and made sure that you've had something to eat but it seems like your "power nap" is now drifting into a "whole day in bed sleeping like a baby" kind of thing.

He carefully gets out of his bed, careful not to wake you before looking down at you and chuckling when he sees you spreading yourself on the bed now that he's gone all whilst still being deeply asleep.

He silently leaves his bedroom to walk through his office, put his jacket on, grabs Lucille and swings her on his shoulder before heading out to make sure that everything is going okay around the Sanctuary.

As he makes his way around the place, paying no mind to the people kneeling down as he passes by, his mind keeps on trying to find a way to handle the whole "Randall situation" without it being a pain in the ass for him to explain to you.

If he's being honest, he doesn't have a fucking clue as to what to do with him, all he knows is that; he doesn't trust him around you anymore and that's a problem.

" **H** ey, Negan." Dwight calls out to try and get the man's attention.

" **D** o we have a problem, Dwighty boy?" Negan asks without even bothering to turn around.

" **N** o, no, it's just- Simon brought me up to speed about the whole Rick situation and all but, I mean- How is she?"

Negan stops walking then and turns to face the man talking to him, " **S** he's doing good. I'm gonna spend most of my time with her from now on though. She needs help with her shoulder since those good for nothing assholes I've sent out shot her- I swear to fucking God, something else happens to her and I won't be responsible for my actions anymore."

" **W** e'll make sure that she's safe from now on, Negan. But- I mean-" Dwight hesitates, making Negan chuckle.

" **S** pill it out, Dwighty boy." he encourages him with an amused smirk on his lips.

" **I** s she- Is she still allowed to go out and all? I mean-"

" **N** o, absolutely fucking not and if she tries, you better let me know."

" **D** oes-Does she know?"

" **N** ope and, yeah, she'll be all angry as shit when she'll find out but, don't you worry about it. I'll be here to fuck that shit out of her anytime." Negan says before patting the top of Dwight's head and walks away as if he didn't just said what he's just said, leaving Dwight with a " _I didn't fucking need to know that_ " bitch-face plastered on his face much to Negan's entertainment.

 

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 **3:00** **PM** **//**

Your eyes finally open as you slowly get out of a deep sleep, a loud squeal bursting out of your mouth as you force your body to emerge from a well deserved sleep that it clearly doesn't want to leave.

" **U** uugh, everything hurts, this is the worst, my dude." you grumpily mumble into Negan's pillow.

You feel like you've been run over by a freaking truck, your entire body aches and you already regret waking up but you force yourself out of the devilishly comfortable satin sheets covering Negan's bed and grunt in regret the moment your feet touch the ground of the bedroom.

" **S** tupid body, feeling things." you grumble as you make your way to a puffy chair sitting in one of the corners of the room where Negan left fresh clothes for you to wear with a little note on top of them which reads; 

**_as much as I fucking love you with no clothes on, that's for my eyes only, baby girl._ **

You blush and scoff at the note and put it aside to grab the clothes he's left you; a pair of white short with black pom-poms at the hem of each leg and a grey tank top which you can already tell is way too big for you but you don't mind, you've always liked loose clothes better.

Gathering all the clothes in your arms to carry them to the bathroom and change into them, you stop in your steps when another piece of clothing catches your eye and you can feel your cheeks heating up when you spot lingerie neatly laid out of the puffy sit of the big chair.

_of course he would..._

You put the pile of clothes in your hands on top of a dresser nearby and walk back to the chair where there's another note waiting for you right on top of the set, this one reads;

**_ps; i found those a couple weeks ago and i just had to fucking see them on you, baby._ **

You honestly have mixed feeling about this note though, because you were still out there a couple of weeks ago which means that he just assumed that you'd run back to him and, hell, he was right and, you hate to admit it but, it kind of hurts.

Pushing your thoughts aside, you take some time to inspect the lingerie. The set is all lace, white lace, and it doesn't leave much to the imagination, **at all**. It's a thong and a bra made with white lace just like the thong, the only difference is that there's red roses sewed just a the right place to hide most of the middle of each breasts and, you have to admit, it's really pretty.

You take the underwear you're wearing at the moment off and put the new set on and, you can't deny it, you look adorable. well, you look adorable in your eyes, in Negan's it'll be a whole different story.

You finish to put your clothes on and decide to go and get some air, see if you can find Negan. You feel kind of stupid as you walk around the compound looking like a lost puppy, men looking at you in a way that you really don't much care for, it honestly creeps you out actually, but you keep on making your way through the crowd.

You finally reach the corridor leading to the dorms and you put yourself in mind to go and knock on Randall's door but your plans are quickly cancelled when a hand violently covers your mouth and, whoever is behind you, drags you to the common shower room.

_well, if this doesn't spell bad fucking new to you, you might want to learn how to fucking read, darling._

You're literally thrown on the hard, cold floor and you don't even get to look up as a bunch of feet start to kick you as you're helplessly laying there on the floor and you understand that it's not just one person with you. Maybe there's two or three? You're unsure, all you can think about is staying quiet and about how much those hits hurt, the pain only amplified by the fact that you're already badly injured.

This goes on for what feels like hours until your quiet vow is broken when a foot violently comes down on your shoulder, making the stitches keeping the wound closed and helping it heal burst open, causing the wound to bleed as if another bullet just hit you.

" **F** ucking hell, Sherry! I thought you said only her lower body." you hear what clearly sounds like a woman exclaim, her words making you frown.

" **P** fft, who gives a shit. Seriously, she can choke for all I care, stupid attention whore." yep, that Sherry alright, you'd recognize her voice through a room filled with screaming ducks on helium.

_well, that's ironic..._

You stay on the ground for a couple of minutes after you've heard them leave the communal room and you try hard not to cry but you're exhausted, your heart is beating like crazy, your whole body is aching in pain and.. did Sherry and her friends just jump you?

"[...] _only on her lower body_." yeah, that sounds familiar. You use to get beat up in school and they would always go for the lower part of your body, your stomach, your ribs, your belly, your waist, not an inch lower or higher just to avoid having people spotting the bruises. Well, they royally fucked up on this one since your entire tank top is now soaking in your own blood.

" **S** tupid, fucking whores, I hate them. I hate them so fucking much." you snarl out in a whisper as you try your best to get out of this room, leaving a paddle of blood for the draining system to take care of.

You decide to head to the infirmary, maybe whoever the doctor working for Negan is will be able to help you out but you don't get your hopes up though. Most of the people working for Negan are either creeps or cowards, so, yeah...

When you finally get there, after walking up a bunch of stairs and navigating through the ridiculous amount of corridors with blood pouring out of your freaking shoulder, you feel like screaming as a sign on the infirmary door makes it clear that the room is closed.

" **F** uck that! Are you fucking kidding me? C'mon!." you bitterly exclaim as you let your head rest against the wooden door, " **I** hate this place." you whisper, defeated, against the steel door.

" **D** amn, [y/n], what the hell happened to you? Are you okay?" you hear Dwight ask, his voice making you jump as you didn't even realize that he was in the break-room which happens to be on the same floor the infirmary is on.

" **I** \- I just- My s-stitches o-opened a-and I- I just ne-need a bandage b-but the- the infirmary is c-closed so-"

" **S** hit, here, come in." he says as he steps in front of you and pulls out a bunch of keys, one opening the room in front of you, " **C** 'mon, I'll fix ya." he gently guides you in with a warm but worried smile and a soft hand on your back to keep you steady.

" **T** -thank you, Dwight." you shyly say as you walk in the room, thankful for his support as he helps you sit on one of the medical tables.

" **A** lright, let's see." he starts as he looks around for some stitching material and, once he's found it, he approaches you with a bottle of pure alcohol in his hands, the look on your face giving your fear away at the sight of the bottle, " **I** know, I'm sorry but-"

" **N** -no, I-I get it, Dwight. It's-It's okay."

" **A** lright, d'you uh- Do you mind taking your right arm out of the shirt to- y'know, give me access to your wound." you simply nod your head at his gentle demand but you quickly find out that, big surprise, you're completely unable to actually move, let alone lift, your arm, " **S** hit, hold on." he rushes in when you wince in pain, " **T** here ya go, better?" he asks as he guides you through the process to help you get out of your shirt completely, leaving you in your white lace bra, red roses being the only things really covering your breast right now but, thankfully, he doesn't make it awkward and immediately starts to clean your wound instead.

Tears silently flow out of your eyes but you keep on telling him that it's okay even though it's clearly not and, yes, he does feel terrible but he knows that it's for your own good. Blood is almost covering the entirety of his hands by the time he's done stitching your shoulder back up, you're exhausted thanks to the blood you've lost but you're thankful that Dwight was willing to help you like he did.

" **T** h-thank you, Dwight." you whisper with a small smile when he hands you a spare tee-shirt that was neatly kept in the dresser next to the doc's desk so that you can cover your bloody tank up with it.

" **H** ey, no problem, [y/n], anytime." you give him a hug which he happily gives back before slowly jumping off the table that you've been sitting on for the last thirty minutes but, just as you're about to walk out of the room, he stops you, "[ **Y** /n], not that I want to be nosy or anything but- How the hell did your stitches pop like that?"

" **I** \- I don't- I don't know." you lie, terribly.

"[ **Y** /n], if there's something you need to talk about-"

" **I** know, Dwight. I know, b-but, I- I'm o-okay, re-really, I just- I just n-need some time a-alone." you lie, yet again, before giving him a small smile.

" **S** ure, okay." he eventually breaks and, as you're walking away to head to the workers' break-room in hopes to actually be able to be all by yourself there, you hear Dwight locking the infirmary door before calling for you, "[ **Y** /n]-" he pauses when you don't turn around but stop in your steps, " **I** 'm guessing that I haven't seen you and that I don't know anything about your stitches breaking, do I?"

" **I** \- Please?" you plead, tears in your eyes, not able to bring yourself to turn around and look at him.

" **R** ight. No problem." he breaths out before walking off to God knows where.

You walk the rest of the way to the break-room and you immediately let yourself fall on the couch sitting in the middle of it, your tears no longer silent as sobs start to roll through you like waves.

You're not crying because your body is hurting like hell. No, you're crying because you feel like shit, you feel like the powerless little girl you used to be, getting beat up by random chicks just because they needed something to entertain themselves with and you just so happened to be it. You feel completely worthless, you feel like, no matter how hard you try, you somehow will always get brought back to being a toy for people to throw and drag around, you used to be a toy for the people on in and outside your own house, you were a toy for Jason and his men, you might as well **still** be a toy for Negan and now your his bitches' toy, too... Great.

 

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 **8:00** **PM** **//**

You've been crying for four hours straight, non-stop tears, sobs and snot with a magnificent headache to top it all off. Needless to say; **you're a mess**.

Your eyes are all puffy, your nose hurts from constantly blowing it and sniffling, your cheeks are a deep crimson red and your head hurts like a bitch but you try to distract yourself from it all by looking out one of the windows in the room, you watch as stars slowly start to fill the night sky .

" **I** 've been looking all over the fucking place for you, baby girl." Negan's voice makes you jump, " **W** hat the hell are you doing in this shithole?" he asks and you don't need to look to know that he's frowning. You feel tears running back to your eyes even though he didn't say anything mean, you're just too tired to interact with anyone, let alone Negan.

" **J** ust-Just gimme a little time, okay? J-just a little time- s'all." you whisper, trying over you words.

" **T** ime for what, angel? What are you-"

" **T** -then we'll- We'll pick up ri-right where we left off, y'know? We'll start getting o-on each other's nerves and we'll go- we'll go back to that awful, stupid, toxic thing we- we had going on, I just- I just n-need a little time. M'not i-in the right- in the right pl-place right now to- to be a pain in your ass and to s-stand you being o-one in mine, Negan. Just need a little time and- and-." you whisper to yourself more than you are directly talking to him as your obvious sadness takes control over your thoughts and clearly breaks all kind of filters you'd normal have.

" **B** aby-"

" **I** j-just- I just wanted t-to be- I just wanted to be y-your b-baby, s'all."

" **H** ey, princess." he says surprisingly softly as he walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you, making you whine in pain when his arm hits your wounded shoulder, " **S** hit- Sorry, baby, I forgot."

" **S** 'okay." you say as you carefully grab one of his hands in one of your shaking hands.

" **B** aby-" he starts but pauses just to lift your head up to make you look at him, " **I** don't need _**them.**_  I don't, no matter what you think, no matter how dumb I was to actually believe that I did. The only reason why shit happened while you were fucking gone is because I was frustrated and angry and pissed off and- Fuckin' hell, they didn't even get me off, baby," you internally cringe at that, "and, damn, I mean- I just have to fucking look at you to get rock fucking hard. So, no, I don't fucking need nor want them anymore. I want you, baby." he breathes you, letting his forehead rest against yours, " **G** oddamn, I fucking need you. I need my princess, shit doesn't make sense if you ain't here, s'fucking stupid."

" **B** ut- I mean- That's the thing, though, isn't it? It's always about who's able to get you off and who's not. I'm tired of that, I don't w-want you to- I don't want you to s-see me as a- a st-stupid, useless, stupid fucking toy and-" you stop when you realize that you're now letting the wounds from your past re-open and you don't want that, you can't afford it. So you just stop mid-sentence, you don't say another word, and just let silent tears freely roll down your exhausted face.

" **B** aby girl, as far as I'm fucking concerned, that's just a way for me to tell you that I fucking care about you, alright? I don't mean for it to be offensive or some shit, honestly."

" **I** -I know, I'm s-sorry." you whisper with a frown, simply saying this because you don't the energy nor the will to get into yet another argument with him.

" **Y** ou're tired, baby, you need to eat and you need some fucking rest, alright?"

" **I** t's not- I'm not-" you let a frustrated sigh.

_tell him, if he truly cares about you, he'll believe you and he'll fucking kick their asses too, just tell him._

" **W** hat is it, angel?"

" **I** \- Never mind, I just- You're r-right, m'tired."

_for fuck's sake!_

" **W** hat's going through that pretty mind of yours, doll?" he asks with a frown, one of his thumbs absently wiping a few of your tears away only for them to be immediately replaced by fresh ones.

" **I** t's just that- I mean- Negan, I- I don't- I don't want you to ch-change for me, I don't- It's not-"

" **W** ell, that's good fucking news right there 'cause I ain't changing shit about me, baby. M'changing shit **around** me, **around you** , shit that don't fucking bother me... Well, maybe not when it comes to Rick's group, gotta admit, I'm gonna miss that asshole. He's a though son of a bitch, way tougher than I fucking care to admit, he's a scary motherfucker."

" **H** e's a good person." you say with a small smile as you recall talking to Rick, spending time with him, getting to know him but also smiling at the thought of Negan actually being afraid of someone.

" **W** ith the people he loves? Sure, why the fuck not, baby, but, damn, you'd shit your pants if you were on his bad side like daddy is." he says with a chuckle before stepping away from you only to come and sit next to you on the pool table.

" **Y** ou killed one of their friends and you took from them, Negan."

" **O** h, c'mon, they didn't like the dude that much, I can tell, y'know." he nonchalantly defends his actions almost making you laugh but you keep yourself from doing so. You're not about to laugh about someone's death.

You both take a moment to look at each other, taking him by surprise when you shuffle around and end up settling down on his thighs, giving him a small smile and receiving a smirk in return. You can't help but bring your hands up to snake them around his neck and play with the dark hair covering the back of his head. 

You've missed this, you've missed him, no matter how much he gets on your nerves. Plus, what he just said to you isn't something you can just brush off but, you have to admit, it feels way too good to be true or not to have a gigantic catch at the end of it.

" **H** ow do I know I can trust you, Negan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, " **I** mean- You've been living the way you do for so long and- I'm just supposed to believe that-that you're willing to get rid of it all for- for me?"

" **B** aby, I didn't just expose my fucking feelings for the thrill of it, alright? I'm so fucking uncomfortable with that type of shit, why would I fuck around with that? Just for the fucking fun of it, princess? Nah, I fucking meant what I said, hell-" he pauses and chuckles gently before pushing the tip of his nose against yours, making you blush, " **O** oh, okay, yeah, I got'cha. Of course I meant what I said about **them** , about **you**. And, yes, I will act on it, baby. You have my word." he says and raises an eyebrow when you extend your pinkie out to him making him chuckle before he actually snakes his pinkie around yours but reality hits you hard in the face with a fucking truck the second your finger touches his.

" **W** e should- We shouldn't be having this conversation right now, Negan. I mean- I'm a mess a-and for all I know you're just saying th-things to make me f-feel better and I don't w-want that, I don't n-need charity s-so, if tomorrow you s-still have the s-same mind set, come and s-see me and we-we'll talk, alright?" you softly say before shyly kissing his cheek and jumping out of his lap before walking back out of the room to get back to yours, leaving him high and dry.

He's not used to being in this position but he sees where you're coming from and he understands why this is important to you, why you're protecting yourself the way you just did and he knows damn well that he's part of the people to blame for that.

He's let you down so many times, made promises that he didn't even try to keep, and hurt you more times than he has fingers to count so, yeah, he understands but, still, he'd be lying if he was to say that you walking away like that didn't hurt his gigantic ego.

Meanwhile, you finally reach your bedroom and, for a good minute, you actually consider knocking on Randall's door but you remember that he works the night-shift on Wednesdays and, if he's not, he's probably deep asleep because you don't hear a sound coming out of his room. Doesn't matter, you don't really want anyone to see you looking the way you do anyway.

You open the door of your bedroom and push it close before taking in the fact that you're back **here** again, you're in a room you hate, in a place you despise, yet you find yourself rubbing softly at the rose on the right side of your left thumb as the memory of the night Randall tattooed you comes running back. That's one good thing about this place.

" **P** lease be okay." you softly whisper.

You strip out of your clothes, throwing the old t-shirt Dwight gave you back at the infirmary to cover up blood soaked tank top you were originally wearing before letting your shorts and your socks join the shirt on the floor. You've decided to keep the bloody tank top by fear of hurting yourself if you try to take it off all by yourself again, the shirt Dwight gave you as buttons on the front so you didn't have to push it above your head but this tank top doesn't.

You slip into your bed, purring at the warmth the blankets are giving you before turning to your left side not to put pressure of your right shoulder and swiftly push your hand underneath your pillow only to feel something cold there which you curiously pull out only to be greeted by the picture of the man you've killed two months ago with Lucille and, you can't lie, you actually feel nauseous as the moment comes running back to haunt you.

_that's what happens when you let someone treat you like a fucking toy, [y/n]._

You shove the polaroid into your nightstand and turn back around to try and get some sleep but your mind is now wide awake and it clearly doesn't plan on going to sleep anytime soon.

You get lost in your thoughts, you find yourself thinking of your father, your mother, your bullies, your struggle with drugs and alcohol, the people who took advantage of your fragile state, the people who tried to get passed your lack of consent and, of course, your mind ends up finding the huge " **NEGAN's FILE// for the love of fuck do not fucking open**!" file and you start thinking about him, about what he said to you, what he did to you this morning, about the things he makes you feel and you find yourself getting scared shitless at the thought of him actually caring about you because it only makes you realize just how much you care as well and you care **way** too much for your own good.

Being cared for, being loved, is usually a pleasant feeling for a lot of people, some of them even crave it, chase it, but you?  **You're terrified of it**. 

You don't think about how nice it'd be to have something to lean on, to talk to, someone that supposedly would be your best friend, the person you could tell everything to. No, in your case, it's more you thinking about how much it's gonna hurt, how deep you'll get cut when that damn feeling will mercilessly shred you to pieces without a second thought, how much more tears you'll shed because of **him** , because of that feeling, how many times you'll fuck up because love would have make you dizzy and irrational.

It fucking hurts already. You can feel it coming and you know it's gonna fucking destroy you, just like it destroyed your mother, it's just what it does.

Love represents nothing but pain and chaos for you and you doubt that someone could ever be able to change that mind-set. You've just seen too much of the damages love can cause.

Hell, you sure as shit never would have imagined that someone such as Negan could and would ever completely tear apart your vision of love for the better.

 **But you don't know that yet** , you don't know just how much is about to change, just how many things you're about to go through, some nicer than others, some really painful and some really appeasing. You don't know just how exhausting and emotionally draining things things are about to be for you but you never really had your hopes up for a brighter future anyway. After all, you're used to people extending their hand out for you to take only for them to withdraw it the very moment you're about to reach out for it. You know that pain and, by now, you'd like to think that you're completely numb to it.

_you're not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, yeah, you probably didn't like that chapter but, hey, can't blame a girl for trying, right? Right. ANYWAY!  
> I'm so sorry about all the freaking stupid mistakes I've made, I know there's a bunch of them, I never get them all because, get that; I make stupid mistakes because I get distracted AND I overlook some of those stupid mistakes because I get distracted, voilà, I'm a fucking mess and I hate everything.
> 
> I hope you're all doing good, that you're all safe and sound, I love you all so, so, so much. You don't even know just how much your patience means to me, it's honestly heart warming because people always were really impatient with me, they always thought I just wasn't good enough to do something so they'll just kinda push me aside and ask for someone else to do it and, well, it's not the best feeling, honestly ^-^.
> 
> Okay, uuuuuuuuh, oh yeah! Also! Lemme tell you about how uncomfortable I am whilst writing smut; very... i'm very uncomfortable.... And it's not even because it's sexual and blah blAH BLAH, WE GET IT BECKY, JESUS! What "disturbs" me is that ; *clears throat* I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT KIND OF LANGUAGE TO USE???? I FEEL SO UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING SHIT LIKE "entrance" AND SHIT LIKE THAT, UGH! S'CRINGEY AS SHIT, OKAY? I DUNNO, PLEASE, YOU GUYS, LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE USED TO AND WHAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH 'CAUSE, YES, THERE'S THE WORD PUSSY IN THERE AND IT'S SUPER VULGAR BUT IT'S BECAUSE IT'S NEGAN TALKING, ALRIGHT??? BUT, LIKE, SHOULD I USE THAT IN THE NARRATIVE TOO???? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, HAAAAAAALP MEH.
> 
> I luh you btw ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵
> 
> ps // I'm getting surgery this Thursday ( the first of June) so, yeah, I don't know how that's gonna affect the whole posting schedule but, hey, I already fucked that up, so... yay? seriously tho, I should get out of the hospital on Friday but I dunno how tired I'll be during the weekend so, the next chapter might be a week late... again.... well, this one is two weeks late (HIGH SCORE, YOU IS A WINNER, YES) so, yeah, I won't make you wait two other weeks... 'specially not for this crap, what the hell.


	23. Star gazing //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.... so... I'm not dead, yay (???)  
> Yeah, s'been three freaking weeks (let's not talk about that, ever) but I had to take some time off (some serious time off, uh? you think i'm playing? this isn't a fucking game, becky) because of my post-surgery recovery and blah bLAH BLAH THROW KNIFES AT ME IF YOU WANNA, DAT'S OKAY.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING // THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA SAD AND... YEAH I CRIED, MY BAD, M'SORRY, HOLY SHIT.
> 
> ALSO, BECAUSE I'M STILL SUPER TIRED (i'm the worst person in the universe, i know, i'm sorry, i wuv u) I DIDN'T REALLY TAKE THE TIME TO PROOFREAD THIS POOP (DON'T YELL AT ME I'LL CRY) SO, YEAH, I'M SORRY FOR THE FUCKING CRINGE MATERIAL AHEAD.
> 
> I LUUUUUUV YOU.

**7:15  AM //**

A grunt seems to be the first thing that'll come out of your mouth today as your eyes barely start to flutter open, your pupils feeling attacked by the lack of darkness in your room. The light invading your room isn't exactly strong but it is sort of blinding for your sleepy eyes.

The strong ache and throb attacking your upper body as well as your head are clear reminders of yesterday's events and you force yourself to laugh it off. Yes, you actually let out a small, quite pitiful laugh as your brain starts to recall the previous events.

Needless to say, you feel like utter shit even though you force yourself out of bed when it'll be easier for you to just stay in it all day long and cry the bad thoughts and memories all away, you still drag yourself to the common showers, eyeing the dry blood that stained the tiles covering the floor of the room as you walk towards a showering cabin, **your** blood, and it seems like the cold has a strong hold of you no matter how warm the water pouring down on your bare body is.

You feel like shit when you get out of the shower only to stand in front of a mirror and realize just how badly bruised you are, when you realize just how badly your shoulder hurts, how badly it craves medical care and gentleness, gentleness that you have no clue whatsoever how to give to yourself nor how to receive from others.

You feel like shit looking at your tummy and thighs as you remember the exact moment you've been told that you weren't worth loving, that you weren't nor would ever be a pretty girl, that you'll never be a complete woman, that you have too many issues, you remember the people behind it as well and that might actually be your biggest problem or maybe, just maybe, the biggest problem here is that people gave you so much crap that you actually started to believe them and now they're gone and you're not. 

You're still here, fighting to live every single fucking day, fighting to learn how to love yourself even the slightest bit because those sorry fucks took that away from you.

You let out a dry scoff when you realize just how much these women beating you up took a toll on you without it even being about getting beat up in the first place, it's psychological more than it is physical. Not only did those fucking idiots re-open an external wound, the one on your shoulder, but they also did a great fucking job re-opening all the internal ones you have as well, the ones that are the hardest to heal and fully close, the ones that aren't carved in your skin but in your mind, the ones you've been fighting to keep from ever bleeding again. They fucked it all up, that's just what people seem to do nowadays, hell, that's what they always did.

" **D** on't let them see it, you can't let them see it." you whisper to yourself as a reminder not to let your fragile and vulnerable state show around anyone, especially not those poor excuses for women..

You quickly brush your teeth and clumsily put the white lace undies that came in the set Negan had left you yesterday and throw Jesus' over-sized AC/DC tee-shirt on before walking off to go back to your room, your hair damp and your face showing just how tired you truly are but you couldn't care less about how you look, especially nowadays.

_what's the point anyways?_

You open the door of your bedroom and immediately close it behind you, pushing your forehead against the wood before letting an heavy sigh out, a sigh filled with fatigue and sadness. You're fucking exhausted.

" **T** hat's a helluva sigh right there, baby girl. Somethin' on your mind?" you hear Negan ask right behind you and you almost pee yourself much to his amusement.

_punch him! punch him in his stupid handsome face and groin!_

" **W** ha- You-You can't d-do that!" you exlaim, turning around to face him, clearly flustered which only leads to him grinning like a damn kid.

" **L** et's talk, angel face." he says, not ask, his grin fading into a crooked smile as he watches you frown in confusion and start to nervously pull on your fingers.

" **O** -okay, um- What d'you want to talk about exactly? I'm- I'm kinda lost to be honest." you admit, looking down at your fingers as you pull and twist them,.

" **S** o, you're just gonna walk away from daddy like that, uh?" he asks in a teasing tone that makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment, referring to the conversation you two had the night before.

" **I** -I'm s-sorry I just-just needed a cl-clear head is all." you whisper, clearly not too keen on re-opening that odd conversation. In all honesty, if you could spare yourself some unnecessary pain, that'd be just fantastic.

" **O** h yeah?" he teases, taking a step forward making you take three back, your back desperately digging into the wooden door it finds keeping you from leaving the room.

" **Y** -yeah." you say barely above a whisper, your head low and your eyes taking an odd interest in your shaking hands.

You're so nervous and scared that you don't even realize that your legs are still completely bare. Your bruised up, still slightly tainted with blood legs are on full display for Negan to see and all that can be heard in the room once you've come to that realization is the sound of you difficulty swallowing your saliva as the room got oddly quiet and you can feel his eyes burning holes into your mid-thighs as the very top of them are covered by Jesus' large tee-shirt.

" **N** egan-" you start but decide not to say anything when you hear him roughly scratching his beard, the sound of the motion itself is enough to intimate you though it's such a normal thing for a man to do, plus, you always see him scratching his stubble or his beard whenever he's deep in thoughts. Yet, right now, it sounds like he's yelling at you without saying a word and it makes your blood freeze.

" **L** ift up your shirt, [y/n]." he orders in a frightening calm and low tone and that's enough to spark tears into your eyes.

You almost immediately regret shaking your head when you hear him walking closer to you, the terrifying sound of the barbwire covering Lucille scratching the bedroom's floor along with Negan's footsteps and all your body can possibly do is push itself further against your bedroom's door, your mind praying for the ground to swallow you whole.

" **Y** our fucking shoulder is bleeding, doll. You mind explainin' why?" he says more than he asks before letting his bat drop on the floor only to be able to keep you still whilst he impatiently lift your shirt up, fully exposing your thighs as well as your tummy and all there is for him to see is a bunch of mean looking bruises and patches of dry blood tainting your skin despite the shower you've just taken, " **I** 'm gonna ask and you're gonna fucking lie to me so we're gonna do something real simple here, dolly." he starts before putting one of his hands under your chin, forcing you to look at him and you can feel his grip tightening the second he spots tears rolling down your face, " **W** as it one of mine?" he asks, referring to his men, his group, and you only find the strength to nod slightly, a sob breaking through your chest, " **Y** ou got any names you'd like to give me, baby girl?"

" **N** -no. No." you manage to choke out, hiding the fact that you know damn well that Sherry was there by fear that he wouldn't believe you anyway and that thought alone hurts more than the actually hits you've received.

" **Y** ou saw his face?" he asks before slowly letting his grip on your chin loosen, bringing his thumb up to your cheek to gently stroke it back and forth, " **C** 'mon doll, throw me a fucking bone here."

" **I** -I-It wasn't- It wasn't a man, N-Negan."

"[ **Y** /N], baby, c'mon. Ain't no walker-" he stops, the information you've just given him finally getting fully proceed and you can see his shoulders tensing up in a matter of seconds, " **T** hat shit ain't gonna slip, no fucking way. Who the fuck do they think they are, uh?" he starts, mumbling to himself more than directly speaking to you and letting go of you before pushing you out of the way of the door, angrily opening it and the last thing he says is, " **I** can't fucking take a fucking break for a fucking minute without shit going to fucking shit around here!" before he's slamming the door, making you jump and tear up some more as you can't help but think that his anger was caused by and aimed at you and, frankly, that's not a good feeling.

But, before you actually get to bury yourself underneath the sheets of your bed, the door of the bedroom opens again and, in a blink of an eye, you're crushed into Negan's chest, his hands protectively grabbing the back of your neck as well as one of your hip.

" **M** 'not mad at you, baby girl, I promise. Didn't mean to blow a fucking fuse like that, m'sorry." he whispers into your hair before leaving a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

" **Y** -You're an a-asshole." you cry into his chest, making him chuckle softly.

" **Y** eah, but I know damn well that you don't mind it, pretty girl." he teases and brings his hand from the back of your neck down to your back to gently rub it up and down in an attempt to calm you down, softly hushing you as he does, " **Y** ou're gonna get some fucking rest, baby. Don't let me catch you working today. I'm not playing around today, princess, we clear?"

" **B** u-"

" **A** re we fucking clear, doll?"

" **Y** -yes."

" **G** ood girl, wasn't that hard now, was it?" he teases but he knows damn well that it's really hard for you to actually let someone take care of you, it's hard for you to let go, " **Y** ou get some rest, I'm gonna go get some shit sorted out and I don't want you around for that, alright?" he asks and you only nod your head knowing better than to try and argue with him, " **T** hen I'll take ya to Hilltop and the Doc'll take a look at ya, baby." he finishes before softly letting go of you to have access to your face and, when he does, he cups your jaw with his right, gloved hand and plants a kiss on your lips, making you wince a little because of how puffy and sore your lips are from you biting down on them for too long.

" **N** -Negan?" you start shyly, not sure if you should ask what you're about to nor how you're supposed to phrase it without making him grumpy.

" **W** hat is it, baby?" his lips are still right there, brushing yours, as he speaks.

" **W** h-I mean- Where's R-Randall?" you ask in a whisper and you almost immediately get a sigh from him, an annoyed one or maybe more of an unsure one.

" **G** et some rest, doll." is the only answer you get and, with that, he gives your lips a quick but tender kiss and literally walks out of the room, leaving you completely dumbfound and your question unanswered much to your frustration.

" **A** sshole." you whisper to yourself before grabbing the pair of black ripped jeans Randall gave you a while back and slipping them on before putting your boots on and slipping a bra on underneath your tee-shirt, ignoring the protest of your sore and aching shoulder, a frustrated sigh leaving your mouth every two minutes.

There's not a lot of things that you consider yourself to actually hate but, goddamn, if being ignored when you clearly need some answers isn't most definitely on the list. But, of course, you being you, you decide to take the matters in your own hands because, after all, you're never better served than by yourself... Though you're fairly certain Negan would tent to disagree with that statement as he's living the complete opposite way of it.

You swiftly tug your butterfly knife into your jeans and grab your handgun to tug it into your pants' waistband but behind your back, the large tee-shirt you're wearing finishing to cover it properly before putting your backpack on your shoulders, because you honestly feel naked without it, your bow poking out of it.

After a month spent with Randall out there, after a month of him repeating that he never wants you to be in danger and that he'd feel more relaxed if you had a gun on you at all times though you detest guns and firearms in general, you've decided to comply, for him, and started to carry a small handgun around, just for him. Though you never used it- Well, you've tried once, when the two of you got attacked and split up but it didn't really do a whole lot since you'd already been shot two times by the time you recalled having a gun on you.

You shrug the memory of that day off, tears filling your eyes at the thought of Randall eventually being hurt, and you decide to actually go and hunt the fucker down no matter what Negan told you about resting and whatnot. You're not about to sleep when your best friend might be needing your help, you can't. He's all you have.

You first go and check his room, you knock on the door but, when no one answers, you decide to open it and peek inside the room only to find out that it's completely empty. No Randall in sight and none of his weapons nor personal belongings are on the table where he usually leaves them, the chest where he used to keep some of his old personal belongings such as photos, his tattooing kit and his drawings is wide open but it's still full so you try and take some comfort in that small detail and, even though it might be a good sign, a part of your mind tells you to grab his belongings, not to leave them there, and you do, carefully putting them in your backpack.

" **W** here are you, Randall?" you whisper as if it'll make him appear right in front of you before sighing and leaving the room, upset, a huge knot forming in your stomach because, yes, a big part of you actually wanted him to be right here, on his bed, reading or drawing on his desk when you opened that damn door, you just wanted it to be easy for once, that's all.

_maybe he's working?_

You make your way through the corridors of the compound and eventually end up in the huge opened area where everyone is already working their asses off for literally nothing and, just as you're about to run outside to go and look for your boy, a conversation between two dudes that you recall being some of the "high rank" men working for Negan catches your attention, so much so that it actually stops you dead in your tracks.

" **Y** eah, man, that fucking kid's fucked." one says and you can literally hear the smile on his face as he speaks.

" **H** e's pushing through though, ain't he? Stupid fuckin' kid, he should've known better than to go for Negan's precious lil' princess, y'know?"

" **N** ah, dude, I get it, y'know? I mean, I'll fucking die for a piece of that too, lemme die happy and whatnot."

_are they talking about us? please don't be talking about us.. s'fucking gross, fucking pigs..._

" **Y** eah, y'lucky he ain't heard that, man." the other man says with a rather disgusting laugh, his friend joining in.

" **H** ell... You think he's gon' kill him or what?"

" **D** unno, I mean, Randall's a good kid but he's fucking reckless, 'specially since Connor died. M'not sure he'll be able to make it another day out here anyway, y'know?"

_he survived a whole month out there, no walls protecting him, those dudes are full of shit. what the hell's going on?_

" **Y** 'know, I mean, shit, I actually think Negan likes that kid, y'know? He's been talkin' about letting him join one of the communities working for him and shit but, I mean, who's to say that chick ain't gon' run off with him again?"

" **L** ook man, I don't fucking know what the hell is going on, m'just okay with beating the hell outta him from time to time, s'stress relieving."

" **Y** ou're so fucked up, man." again, they chuckle, the sound making your stomach churn.

" **Y** ou wouldn't be standing right here if you weren't as well, smartass."

" **S** hut up."

_they're beating him up? what? what the hell is going on? where the hell is he?_

" **T** he cells." you whisper to yourself before sneaking away from these two fucking idiots and running off to try and look for Randall in the fucking basement where Negan keeps his "prisoners" but you consider them more like hostages than anything else if you're being honest.

 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

 

Sounds of heavy, almost threatening, foot steps are echoing through Negan's quarters as he makes his way to his "wives" living room but he stops in his tracks when he spots Laihla's bedroom door slightly open and he decides to go and have a little chat with her before he blows a fuse so violently that the whole damn compound is gonna hear him.

He lightly knocks on the door but, Negan being true to himself, he doesn't wait for an answer to actually open it and walks straight into the room, closing the door behind him before letting an heavy sigh out.

" **S** ure, come in, why the fuck not." Laihla says, sarcasm and annoyance clearly present in her voice but it only makes the man in front of her grin like a damn kid.

" **H** ow polite of you, doll."

" **D** amn it, Negan, what do you want?" she sighs, aggravated by Negan's behavior, before throwing the book she was happily reading on her nightstand.

" **S** o," he starts before pulling a chair from Laihla's desk and dragging it right in front of her bed before sitting down on it with his nonchalant attitude, "you doin' good?"

" **A** s good as it gets I guess. What you do want, Negan?" Laihla asks again, clearly not up for a conversation right now, not with Negan at least.

" **J** ust, y'know, wanted to know if you still loved that husband of yours and whatnot."

" **O** f course I fucking do. How da-" she takes a deep breath and looks up at Negan only to narrow her eyes at him, " **A** re you- Are you smiling? Like, smiling in a genuine happy way and not smiling like a psychopath that enjoys being in control like you usually do? Okay, what d'you do now, Negan?"

" **D** amn, girly, that's cold even for you." he says with a small chuckle, clearly enjoying to see her so confused and clueless, " **B** ut, yeah, lil' [y/n]'s back, figured I should tell ya since, y'know, you helped her run off and all that crap."

" **W** ha- How-"

" **O** h, c'mon, I'm not fucking stupid, darling. And, let's be honest, you're the only broad with a brain on this floor so... Yeah, t'was easy to put two and two together."

" **A** re you mad at me?" Laihla asks, her bright green eyes narrowed.

" **N** o, she's back, she's safe, we're cool."

" **S** o, she's okay? I mean- She's, like, really okay?"

" **S** he's, how'd you put it? As good as it gets, dolly."

" **S** o, no." she sighs out.

" **S** he's getting by. I don't know, she ain't the easiest book to fucking read, Laihla, at all, and it doesn't really fucking help that there's a bunch of fucking missing pages in that damn book. Hell, you're lucky if you even find a way to open the fucking book."

" **Y** ou literally said fuck four times in one damn sentence, Negan. Chill, it ain't that serious." she says, making the man chuckle and allowing herself to relax a little as well, " **C** 'mon, spill it, what's going on with you? You're creeping me out, man." she asks, her eyes scanning his face and the grin parting her lips is enough to let Negan know that she knows, " **I** mean, I love to say it so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it; I fucking told you so."

" **L** aihla-"

" **Y** ou want her all to yourself don't ya-"

" **Y** ou wanna go back to your husband or not?" his words cut her off, almost making her choke on her own words.

" **W** hat?" she asks, every emotion on her face fading away as she looks at Negan, praying for him to have actually said what she thinks he's just said.

" **I** f you want to go back to your husband, get your shit and go see Simon, he'll give you a room and you'll get to pick a job, alright?"

" **A** re you serious? Negan, if this is some sick joke I'm not-"

" **L** isten, you're the only pair of boobs on this floor that's actually gonna stay here, at the Sanctuary, sweetheart. The others are either going out there or they'll go join a community workin' for me, I don't really give a shit, I just don't fuckin' want them near my girl."

" **S** eriously? Negan-"

" **P** ack your shit, Laihla." he simply instructs as he gets up off the chair and drags it back to its desk, " **O** h, and- Don't tell anyone out there, alright? Only you, Faith, Dwight and Simon know, so, keep it down."

" **S** ure, of course- Thank you." Laihla voice is barely above a whisper, shaking with emotion and she can't seem to focus on one thing, her eyes frantically scanning the room as she speaks.

" **Y** ou got it." he says before opening the door of her room but he pauses right before he steps out, " **O** h, and, by the way, no matter what you hear, you keep packing and you head the fuck down, Laihla, alright?"

" **I** s-Is everything okay, Negan?"

" **Y** eah, I just- I've got to fucking repeat my goddamn self again today and you know how much I fucking hate that so, I might get a little mad is all."

" **D** oes that mean someone is about to die? One of **_'em_**?"

" **I** don't know, seriously fucked up though? Yeah, most definitely."

" **B** ut- I mean- Isn't the whole point of us being here security and shit?" she asks with a quirked up eyebrow, clearly not all that bothered by the though of the women living on this floor getting their ass handed to them for once in their pitiful life.

" **I** 've made those fucking rules, if people can break 'em then so can I, Laihla. Y'know that."

" **W** -wait, but, I mean, what the hell happened for you to actually be mad at them?"

"[ **Y** /n] got beat up by some of 'em and I ain't about to let that slide, things gotta fucking change around here anyways, so... yeah." he shrugs before ending the conversation by walking out of the room and closing the door behind him to immediately start walking towards the huge living room where his "wives" happen to be at this hour of the day.

The second he walks into the room, he tries to relax as much as possible but you seem to be invading his mind at the moment and it's making it hard for him to concentrate though his mind becomes a much darker place the moment a hand touches his chest.

" **H** ey you, where've you been?" Sherry asks with a small smile.

" **S** pending time with my girl, but that's none of your business now, is it?" he says with a smirk, not able to resist the urge to let his anger and frustration shine through.

" **D** amn, relax, what's with her anyway? She needs ya to change her diapers or something?" she says with a giggle that seems to rub Negan the wrong way and her "joke" also didn't play in her favor, at all.

Negan's used to Simon and Faith teasing him for being attracted to such a young girl but it doesn't matter to him. After all, your legal and consenting, but if there's one thing he can't stand is someone indirectly insulting and belittling you because of your age and the age gape there is between the two of you and that's exactly what she just did.

" **Y** eah, let's just say that we both really fucking enjoy when she's laying on my lap." he responds clearly trying to get to her but also shamelessly meaning his words.

" **C** 'mon, baby, we both know she doesn't let you fuck her, her fucking loss though, right?" Sherry says, pushing Negan closer to the edge and actually getting slightly closer to him before he does something neither of them really predicted.

In a fraction of a second, the barbwire covered head of Lucille ends up right against her cheek, the sharp wires digging into the skin there, " **Y** ou better have a real fuckin' good reason for me not to bash your head in, doll."

" **W** hat the hell, Negan? Get that thing out of my face." she protests as her "friends" stand there, watching as the scene unveil in front of them and it gets uglier by the second.

" **I** -Is this a-about yo-your girl? [Y/n], r-right?" one of them shyly asks.

" **Y** 'know anything about it, Molly?" he asks through gritted teeth, his eyes not leaving the head of his bat, his knuckles white from restraining himself.

" **Y** eah, a-actually I-"

" **S** hut you damn mouth, Molly!" Sherry protests yet again but Negan isn't thinking the same way.

" **F** ucking spill it, Molly. Now!"

" **I** was there, Angie was too." Molly confesses in a whisper, clearly panicked and lost in this situation.

" **W** hat the fuck, Molly?!" the other woman, Angie, protests.

" **I** -I didn't- I didn't want to do it- I didn't- Sherry pr-promised me that sh-she'll talk t-to you about l-letting me and Tom go b-but she-she lied and I thought- I thought that she was b-being truthful and- Oh God, I've beat up a poor girl for n-no reason. I-I feel sick, I can't stand myself, I can't believe I've let her drag m-me into this, I'm so s-sorry."

The room falls silent for an extremely tensed minute before a sincerely scary chuckle slips out of Negan's mouth, " **S** o, I know Laihla didn't do shit, Molly told me her side of things. You two" he says, pointing at Sherry and Angie, "are completely fucked up, that's four of you, I'm missing two."

" **T** hey're downstairs, Negan, I already asked them if they had anything to do with it all, Lilly said she'd heard those two talk about it but she didn't know it was for real so she didn't say anything, other than that, they're both clear." Faith says as she walks into the room, her gun tugged into her jeans.

" **A** lright, fucking hell- I hate this shit, seriously." Negan bitterly spits out, letting Lucille fall from Sherry's face, the woman letting out a sigh of relief, and he turns around to face Faith.

" **I** know but you know that we have to talk about it before you do something stupid, right?" Faith says, her voice gentle though she's throwing daggers with her eyes at the women standing behind Negan.

" **J** ust- Lock 'em into their fucking rooms and get your ass back to your quarters so you, Dwight, Simon and I can have a fucking conversation about this shit, that clear?"

" **C** rystal clear." she says before tapping Negan's shoulder and walking past him to escort the women to their respective rooms, " **O** h, and, by the way, Laihla's settled."

" **T** 'was quick, that's good, I'm not in the fucking mood for things to take four fucking hours."

" **I** t's really cool, y'know, to let her stay with her husband? That's a cool move." Faith praises with a small smile, watching as Negan's features soften.

" **Y** eah, s'cause I'm a cool guy like that." he teases with a cheeky smirk, making Faith laugh before getting her serious face back on and pushing the women she's supposed to escort in front of her, gun loaded just in case as Negan decides to head back to keep an eye on things and check on you as well.

 

  
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**FLASHBACK** **//** **A MONTH EARLIER** **//**

" **C** 'mon, there as to be one thing you miss about your old life. Gimme something, sweetheart." Randall says with a smile as he turns his head to the side to look at you though you're too busy looking up at the stars completely covering the night sky to actually look back at him but he doesn't mind, at all.

" **I** don't- I prefer things the way they are now to be honest, though it kind of makes me a sociopath and whatnot."

" **W** hat about- What about all the fucking psychos running around? C'mon, you can't possibly tell me that it doesn't bother ya, sweet pea."

" **N** o, it doesn't- I mean, is it messed up? Most definitely. There's some good people out here, right now, being taken advantage of, getting their hard earned supplies taken away for no reason other than people's greediness but, I mean- People were doing some terrible things before too, y'know? It just- I don't know- I guess it just didn't really come as a surprise to me, y'know?" you whisper before actually slightly turning your head to the side to look back at Randall.

" **H** ow're you feeling, sweet pea?" he asks with a slight frown.

" **I** -I'm okay, m'okay."

" **Y** ou don't have to be, [y/n]."

" **R** andall-"

" **Y** our depression isn't a consequence of the fucked up world we live in right now, it was there before, [y/n], and it'd be more than normal and perfectly understandable if you weren't fucking smiling twenty-four-seven, alright? I mean, shit, you're a human being and you've seen and went through so many fucked up shit, more than I could ever handle, more than anyone could ever fucking handle actually, and you're so damn young and now- Now you're stuck in a world where you can't really get to the help you might need, let alone pills to help out, people to truly talk to-"

" **I** have you." you whisper, trying not to let the fact that his words are actually getting to you show but he sees it, **he always does**.

" **I** 'm sorry, sweet pea. I didn't mean to upset you, it's just- I'm worried about you. I love you and I care about you and I- I can't-" he lets out a sigh, seemingly chocking on his words.

" **W** hat is it?" you softly ask, curious as to what's going through his head.

" **F** uck- I can't be the only person you aren't afraid to talk to, sweet pea, I can't-"

" **I** -I'm s-sorry, I didn't- I didn't m-mean to make it sound l-like I'll a-always relay on you and-"

" **N** o, no, no, it's not that, sweet pea, s'not it- It's just-" he stops and slowly sits down on the roof that you two have been laying on for about two hours now and you do as well, worryingly looking at him as you can clearly see that something is bothering him and the way that he takes your left, tattooed hand in his to soft caress the rose burned on the outside of your thumb only pushes you to believe that he's holding something heavy, " **I** won't- I mean- No matter how much I don't want to talk about it, eventually, some day, I'll be gone, sweet pea-"

" **S** o will I, Randall." you cut him off with a frown, "What-"

" **I** f life is just a little bit right, I'll be gone long before you, [y/n], I better." he says with a small chuckle and smile but his words are far from enjoyable to you, " **L** ook, you're the only person that I can look at and go "there's not a damn thing in this world that I wouldn't do for her" and I just- If something was to happen to me? I want to go knowing that you'll be okay-"

" **I** 'm not making that promise, Randall. I can't."

" **A** nd I won't ask you too, s'not my place to, sweet pea. Thing is, I want you to understand that it's okay for you to feel whatever your mind is putting you through, alright?"

" **Y** eah, but-"

" **Y** ou told me that you felt stupid and weak for letting yourself cry like you do but I don't want you to think about it that way, [y/n]. Crying is a good thing but you also have to understand that you're allowed to be angry." your face ever so slightly scrunched up at that but he's quick to notice, " **Y** ou are." he insists, "It's normal, it's healthy. When you get angry, it's nothing more than your mind telling you that someone crossed a line that you didn't want them to cross, baby." he pauses to frame you face with his hands, making you look up at him, " **Y** ou're allowed to be angry, you're allowed to yell, you're allowed to raise your fucking voice, to tell people to fuck off, to put them back in their place and, guess what? It'll never make you a bad person, sweet pea, it makes you human and you're most human person I've ever met, even before all of this shit went down."

" **I** just- I don't want to-to hurt anyone, y'know?"

" **I** don't know, baby, it'd kinda feel right for you to kick someone's ass, y'know?" he says with a small laugh, making you giggle as well, " **I** mean, c'mon, after all the shit you've been put through? I feel like you have kind of a freebie for that type of shit- Just, don't let it become an habit, don't be-"

" **L** ike Negan?"

" **Y** eah, like that."

" **I** won't, we're not even close to ever having something in common, Randall."

" **A** ctually, you'd be surprised, sweet pea."

" **A** re you trying to insult me, Chicago boy?"

" **I** would never, your Majesty." he teases with a smirk.

" **I** hate you." you whisper with no conviction whatsoever in your voice and a small smile tugging at your lips though you try your hardest to contain it.

" **L** ove you too, sweet pea." he says, making the two of you laugh, attracting a few walkers' attention from the ground below but you don't mind them, you're just enjoying the moment and that's that, " **H** ey, can I ask ya something? Kind of, like, a huge favor?"

" **S** ure, Randall, whatever you need."

" **I** f something ever happens to me-"

" **P** -Please don't-"

" **N** o, sweet pea, I'm serious."

" **O** -okay, alright- Go ahead, sorry." you break with a sigh, knowing that, no matter how much you hate to talk about it, death wishes are important and they need to be told while it's still possible.

" **I** f something ever happens to me- Could you- Could you bury me next to Conny?"

" **O** f course, I promise." you immediately answer, no hesitation whatsoever in your voice, " **B** -but- I don't really want to think or talk about that right now, Randall."

" **I** know, baby. I'm sorry, I just- Hell, I guess I needed to tell someone about it, y'know?"

" **I** know, and, that's okay, don't worry about it." you say before crawling between his parted legs and curling up into his chest, making him chuckle softly, " **I** 'll bring you to Connor, I promise. You don't ever need to worry about it, Chicago boy."

" **D** amn- I wish things could just, you know, stay like that and stop going to shit for once. It's just so fucking exhausting, makes me envy them sometimes." he says, referring to the walkers roaming around the area, " **T** hough, to be honest, I'm scared shitless at the idea of getting gutted and, like, even turning into one of them, I don't fucking want that- I mean, what if I hurt someone?"

" **P** romise me that you won't let me become one and I've got your back too." you whisper against his chest, your lids getting heavy with sleep.

" **O** f course, sweet pea. Hell, you know damn well that I won't let anything happen to you, I'll fucking die to keep you safe."

" **W** ell then, I think we have a problem 'cause I don't plan on letting you go anywhere anytime soon, Randall." you whisper, making him laugh softly.

" **Y** ou're freezing, sweet pea, let's get you inside." he whispers to you before getting a firm grip on your body, securing you, and getting up to carefully walk the two of you back inside the small house you two have settled in for the night.

" **I** love you too, Randall." is the last thing you remember saying to him that night after he kissed your forehead and slipped you underneath a bunch of warm blankets on a big bed, making sure you're warm and comfortable enough.

" **Y** eah, I know, sweet pea." he whispered to you though you were already asleep.

 

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People always talk about what's the worst thing that could possibly happen to them, how they would "totally die" if such thing was to happen to them, what it would mean for them, for the people around them, how badly their heart would hurt, how lost they'd feel because of it or how much damages it might cause. You've never been one of those people but it's simply because you've already had a lot of sorrow to deal with, you didn't really feel the need to anticipate just how it could possibly get any worse.

Thing is, you were born a bright girl, always smiling, laughing and finding awe in every single thing surrounding you. A bright, shinning, light used to keep you company at all times but, the day your dad died, you saw it flicker for the first time, then some more when your mom started to turn into the abusive monster you've made the acquaintance of, then again when you got beat up for the first time in school and, from then on, the flickering became more regular, almost like it'd found a pace, a steady, fucked up pace.

You've never thought about it, not in depth at least, you've never thought of what kind of damages it could do to you if that light ever came to stop shinning, even for a short second. You've never minded the flickering because, at least, the light remained with you, keeping you grounded and reminding you of the bright little girl you used to be.

That light eventually started to seriously freak the hell out when Luna died, leaving you all on your own, you're thankful that Merle and Daryl were there for you back then, that Daryl still somewhat is.

Nothing ever broke that light, **ever**. It got damaged, it seriously freaked out at some point but it never, **ever** , turned off.  **Never**.

But, you felt it, you're feeling it right now. That damn light? It just broke, exploded into a million meanly sharpened pieces, cutting you so deeply that you can taste blood on your tongue. It just burst, turned into sharp, toxic dust, invading your lungs and keeping them from providing you the oxygen you need, your brain to think properly, your heart to beat regularly and your hands from keeping steady as you reach for the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans to shakily aim it at Randall, your best friend, the closest thing you've ever had from a brother, more accurately maybe even a boyfriend, as his jaw keeps on snapping dangerously close to Arat's face whilst she tries to reach out for her gun as its laying on the floor a few feet away from her.

You don't feel anything, not a damn fucking thing, not even as your finger softly presses down on the gun's trigger, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun's barrel making your ears ring and your hands shake. You don't feel anything when you hear Randall's body fall heavily on the ground next to Arat, nothing when you open your eyes again and watch blood leave your friend's head. There's **nothing** , nothing at all.

There's no pain, no sadness, no anger and there sure as shit isn't any joy whatsoever. It's just you, standing there, shaking, tears silently leaving your eyes without you even realizing it, you're completely numb.

You tuck your gun back into your jeans and walk towards Randall's corpse, paying no attention to Arat who's now back up on her feet, her gun in hands but no words leaving her mouth and you're thankful for that because you're afraid of the things you'll do to her if she was to speak to you right now, hell, you're afraid of what you might do in the next couple of minutes.

You stand there, looking down at Randall's face, his eyes are closed and he almost looks peaceful or at least you hope that he is, you doubt it though. His face is covered in bruises and fresh wounds, one in particular catches your attention. There's a clear mark of the hand-grip of an AK on the right side of his head, right next to his eye and **you know.**  You know that's what killed him.

He must have been knocked out, maybe he fell and the impact killed him, you're not sure, not sure at all. All you know is that not enough damages were done to his brain to keep him from turning and you find yourself wishing that it did, you didn't want to see him as one of them and neither did he. You failed him on that one, you were too late and now you have to live with that guilt.

You gently wrap your hands under his armpits and around his shoulders and start dragging him along with you, his body leaving a fresh trail of blood behind, making the corridor look like a damn horror movie scene.

There's no words leaving your mouth, not the slightest sign of emotions on your face but silent tears, your body tense and shaking but still carrying you. There's nothing, nothing at all. Right now, you're just a bag of flesh, blood and guts with a less than half functioning mind, nothing more and, hopefully, nothing less.

You lift your head up only to blankly stare into space when you spot Arat's hands reaching for Randall's ankles to try and help you carry him but, somehow, it sets you off and you find yourself taking your gun out to point it straight to her head, your finger already on the trigger and you have no say whatsoever on what's happening to you, what your body is doing nor what its **about** to do.

" **A** lright, [y/n]- Alright." she whispers, slowly backing away, her hands up to show you that she's got your message and that she won't go against it.

People probably heard the gunshot, you know they did because some of them came running down to the cells but you pay no attention to them whatsoever as you go back to dragging your friend's lifeless body up the stairs and through the whole fucking compound, letting people shot you questioning and fearful stares but, again, you pay no mind to them. It's like they don't even exist, you only know that they're here because your eyes are still working a minimum but, they're not even people to you, just blurry silhouettes, nothing more.

You finally get outside of the compound, the walkers guarding the gates getting agitated by the smell of fresh blood Randall is leaving all over the place but you're so out of it, you don't even hear them. Your ears are buzzing insanely loud, so much so that, you don't even realize that Negan, Faith, Dwight and Simon were standing right there, chatting, until you've showed up and they're now all looking at you, sharing concerned looks but none of them making a move. They all know better.

You get to a rusty car and open the trunk to lay Randall in it, covering him up with an old blanket but, before you can close to trunk, Simon's hand grabs your forearm and, even though his grip isn't violent, it's enough to push you over the edge and, soon enough, he ends up with the barrel of your gun pointed right between his eyes, your finger dangerously resting on the trigger, your teary eyes fixed on his.

" **O** pen the gate, Simon." you demand, still no emotion showing through your voice though anger is now showing through your body language, that much is clear.

And, as he realizes that you're in no condition to be talked down, he slowly backs away from you and looks at Negan, trying to get some kind of green light from his boss for him to actually open the gate for you and he almost immediately does as Negan simply nods his head, not moving an inch though he is actually worried about you and slightly upset to see Randall like that. 

That's not what he wanted, he thought he did but he can now say that he absolutely did not. Especially now that he sees just how much damages it's done to you, he can already tell that something changed about you, he doesn't need to talk to you, he just knows, it's in your eyes, the way you stand, the way you speak. Iit's not just the shock of the loss, it's deeper than that, more violent and raw, he can actually see **hatred** in your eyes which he never did before.

A few hours later you finally get to that damned spot where Connor's grave lies and you can feel your stomach eating itself up, it hurts like a bitch but you still manage to park the car though you have to take a moment before you get out of the vehicle.

You're used to this; burying people, you know how it works, why it happens but, still, you never got used to it. It never gets any easier, at least not for you it doesn't. It seems to have become such a casualty for the people around you but it doesn't sit right with you, burying someone shouldn't become a casualty, someone's death should not be considered a fucking casualty, you refuse to let it become one, you can't.

You gather the courage to open the car's trunk and a big part of you hopes that it'll be empty, that Randall won't be laying there, his blood soaking the blanket covering his now lifeless body, you really do, you can't afford false hope but you can't help it either, he's your best friend, the closest thing you've ever gotten from a soulmate and you've never been one to believe in that type of things but, with him, it was different, it was good, it was healthy, it was what you so badly needed and, to see the one person who ever gave you true, genuine and pure happiness laying lifeless right in front of you is too much of a violent picture for you to handle, way too violent.

And, after hours of feeling completely numb, barely feeling human, the tears that you've kept yourself from shedding on the drive here finally run free and your face quickly gets soaked with the salty water, your heart beating out of your chest as you finally allow it to let go of all the anger, the sadness, the hurt and the adrenaline your brain has been secreting, your lungs are fighting to keep you oxygenated and it feels like someone is pushing down on your throat, your whole body is aching, your wounds are painfully throbbing, reminding you just how bad things are at the moment and it feels like your entire body is about to collapse.

You can't believe that such a feeling actually exist, for hours, literal hours, you couldn't feel a damn thing and now, as if you were the one who decided to go completely numb in the first place, your body is punishing you with a mix of emotions and physical pain so violent that you can't recall ever hurting as badly as you are right now though you got shot multiple times, stabbed, beat up and assaulted. Nothing compares to the pain you're feeling right now, **nothing at all**.

_this isn't fair... should be us, not him._

You fight through your tears and your shaking body to try and get a firm grip on Randall but, the second the blanket he has on slips away from his face, you can't keep up with this reality anymore, it all comes down to completely crush you and you can't find the strength to lift him up and out of that damn trunk. You can't, your legs refuse to carry you or to even move you anywhere and your arms are too shaky for you to actually get a real, secure hold on Randall, let alone lift him up and carry him.

You finally let go him and let yourself cry but you soon realize that you don't just have a few tears to cry, no, they just keep coming and it doesn't stop. It's painful and it doesn't fucking **stop** , it's so violent that crying actually hurts you more than anything at this point.

The only thing able to bring you back to that harsh reality of yours are a few noises coming from the woods surrounding the area and all you can really do is grab your bow and pointlessly aim it at one random spot, waiting for someone to either shoot you or for a bunch of walkers to show up but there's nothing, there's still those damn noises but you're so tired and lost that you can't possibly identify where they're coming from and who or what's causing them.

You decide to go back to the task at hand and hardly take Randall out of the car's trunk and actually manage not to drop him on the ground though you let his legs fall because you're way too weak to carry his whole body at the moment.

Having him in your arms like that, unresponsive, gone, covered in blood, fresh wounds and bruises makes you sick to your stomach. You've never thought anything could hurt so badly, you didn't know that kind of pain was actually real.

Grabbing a shovel to dig his grave hurts more than when you thought you've lost Daryl and Merle, it hurts more than when you've actually heard about Merle being dead, more than when you've found out your father died, it hurts more than any of your bullies ever did, more than your mom ever did, more than when she died, than when Luna passed away and it's all too much, it's all too fucking much.

Burying Randall is burying your hero, your best friend, your soulmate, the one person who never treated you a certain way because of your past. He didn't care, he loved you for you and you loved him for him and you never, ever, could have imagined nor could have been prepared for that specific moment, no matter how much he talked about it, nothing could ever prepare anyone to bury their hero and never could ever hurt as much.

It feels unreal, like today's fake, as you dig Randall's grave right next to Connor's just like he wanted, like you promised.

 

**8:00  PM //**

You've been standing there for what it feels like minutes but it's actually been hours. Hours of just standing in front of Randall's still opened grave as he lays in the dirt, looking almost peaceful and you can't help but wonder if he's with Connor right now, making stupid, corny, jokes that you love to hate so much, you hope that he's with his mom too, God knows that woman must be proud of the gentle soul that her son is though he's been treated like shit.

When your legs finally decide to work again, you go fetch your backpack and pull his tattooing kit as well as his personal pictures with him in his grave and, after taking a deep breath, you decide to take a moment to say goodbye.

" **Y** ou-You tried- You tried to prepare me for that moment but- I can't- I can't realize that you're g-gone- I can't- I don't want to but I know that- that I have tosay goodbye b-because- because I'll regret it if I don't I-I know that- I know but I can't- I don't want you t-to go but- but if you have t-to th-then I wanna say goodbye, okay? I uh- I hope that you're at peace now, God knows you deserve it, Chicago boy." you say with a painful, teary laugh, " **T** -thank you for making my life a-a little easier a-and peaceful a-and- I just- I don't want you to go, Randall, b-but- but you-you deserve to rest, alright? S-so- So don't you worry about lil' ol' me, I-I'll be- I don't know- But, it's like you always say, we'll just have t-to make due, r-right?" you finish, tears dripping down your face like there's a cloud right above your head raining down on you but you still manage to grab the shovel to close his grave and cover him up with dirt, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening as his body slowly gets out of your sight and you have to take in the fact that you've heard his voice for the last time barely three days ago and that today was the last time you'll ever see his face again, " **I** love you, Chicago boy. I love you, I love you, I love you." you repeat as if it somehow will make all of this go away before you end up sitting down in-between his and Connor's grave.

After a few minutes you end up shooting one of your arrows into a walker's head, making it fall flat on the ground and, because you've decided on spending the night out here, **with him** , you drag the corpse to you to cover yourself up in the rotten guts of the now lifeless walker and, after properly covering yourself up, making sure that you're a minimum safe, you drag the body to the graves with you and lay back down in between the two friends before settling the corpse on your lower body, making sure that the smell stays with you through the night and, surely enough, between the tones of tears you've cried and all the adrenaline finally wearing off, your body begging for rest and care as well as the energy drain your emotions have been today, you quickly fall asleep, tears still rolling down your cheeks to fall on the ground below you and get soaked into the dirt of the Randall's grave.

 

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You're not sure how you feel, you know it's bad, **it's awful** , it hurts and it's not just a psychological pain, it's so violent that it's also a physical one, a really fucking painful one, but you can't find words to describe it.

"[ **Y** /n]? Sweetheart? Hey, c'mon, wake up." your eyes flutter open when a somewhat familiar voice echoes in your ears and you find yourself patting the ground, looking for your knife but a hand comes down on yours to keep your from actually reaching for the weapon, " **I** t's okay, [y/n]. It's me, s'Daryl." you hear the archer say in a rather soft voice but the fact that you're now fully awake also means that your body is as well and you've almost forgotten in just how much pain you previously were in.

" **I** \- I want to be alone, Dixon, just go." you say almost coldly, your back still turned to him as you lay your head on Randall's grave.

" **Y** eah, right, as if you're just gonna get rid of me so easily. Try again, [y/n]."

" **I** 'm not in the fucking mood, Daryl. Just leave!" you snarl, trying your hardest to sound cold and harsh but the fact that you love this man with all your heart as well as the fact that you're a complete sweetheart doesn't really play in your favor right at this instant and you let out a sob, his mere presence being enough to break your stupid little act.

" **C** 'mon, pumpkin, cut the crap." he gently coos and that's all it takes for you to turn around and hide away into his chest, crying until his shirt is completely soaked into your tears and, though he won't say it out loud, it breaks his heart to hear you cry like that, he's always hated it, " **I** 'm sorry, [y/n]." he whispers against the top of your head as he inspects the grave you were sleeping on and assumes that you're in the state that you're in because the person buried there is must have been a friend of yours.

" **I** t's all my fault, Daryl." you cry into his chest, still unable to calm yourself down.

" **S** top-"

" **I** could have- I could have done something. I could have- could have looked for him, I c-could have helped him but I didn't. I only thought about my stupid self. It's my fault, it's all my fault, Daryl." you let out through heart-wrenching sobs.

" **Y** ou remember how badly you were hurt when we found you? You really think that you could have gone on a hunt for your friend with two bullets holes in your body, bleeding out? C'mon, [y/n], you're smarter than that." he says as softly as possible, comforting people being something Daryl isn't really used to, as he puts two and two together and quickly understands that the friend you buried today is the one you've expressed worries for while you were at Alexandria, the one Daryl actually looked for when he was out on supply runs though he's never told you about it, not wanting to get your hopes up for nothing; Randall.

" **N** o!" you start, pulling away from him to look at him, " **Y** ou don't understand! I should have just went and looked for him after your group found me, Daryl, but I didn't! And- Fuck, y'know why?" you ask with a dry laugh intertwined with sobs, "Because I thought that- that I still had a chance to get a small piece of a somewhat normal life back after I woke up in your bedroom and saw your people interacting, helping and caring for one another. All those houses, kids running around, just- how s-stupid am I?" you ask, looking at him as if he was actually about to tell you that you're fucking stupid but, instead, his expression softens.

" **T** hat doesn't make ya stupid, [y/n]. Stop hurting yourself like that, please-"

" **N** ormal doesn't exist anymore, Daryl. And that-that makes me so s-stupid! I've traded the fantasy of a regular life for the only person who ever gave a shit about me."

" **Y** ou can't blame yourself like that, [y/n]. C'mon, please-"

" **W** -what about you? Where were you when Merle died, Daryl?"

" **S** top." he warns, clearly not liking the way things are headed.

" **T** ell me that you didn't feel guilty for what happened to him, Daryl, that you didn't f-feel like you c-could have done s-something sooner." you pull away from him to look at him as words leave your mouth with no filter whatsoever, " **T** ell me, come on! If that's so easy, tell me you couldn't have done something sooner for him, tell me that you don't feel that guilt every time you remember him!" you snap, your hands clinging to his vest, " **P** -please, tell me." you plead, sobs leaving your mouth as guilt and regret instantly eat away at you after unfairly mentioning Merle.

You two sit there, kneeling in front of one another and you look down, pulling on your fingers, waiting for him to either leave you there or to blow a fuse but, instead, he pushes you back into his arms and hugs you, " **P** lease, stop. Stop hurtin' yourself like that, sweetheart. Just stop." he coos as he rocks you back and forth in his arms, letting you cry your heart out into the crook of his neck.

" **H** e's g-gone- He's gone and I- I don't w-want him t-to be gone. I want him b-back, Daryl. Pl-please?"

" **I** can't do that, [y/n]. Y'know I can't." Daryl feels his heart clench in his chest at the sob you let out at his words, " **M** 'sorry. [Y/n], I'm so sorry."

" **I** don't- I don't-" again, you pull from him, bringing a bloody hand up to wipe your a few tears away and smearing some more blood on your face in the process, " **I** 'm actually g-gonna head back,  I'm-"

" **Y** ou're not going anywhere alone, 'specially not on fucking foot, [y/n]. Lemme bring you back to Alexandria, alright?"

" **N** o, Daryl, I need this, please. I need to go back a-and I need to be alone, please."

" **I** can't just leave you like that, [y/n]. How can you even ask me to?"

" **M** 'not asking you shit, Dixon." you say with a teary giggle, a smile creeping on his face though he tries to hide it, " **I** t's just- something I have to do, alright? I need it, I know what I'm doing, Daryl. I need this, don't take that away from me, please."

" **H** ere." he says whilst reaching into his back pocket before handing you a walkie-talkie, " **S** 'Michonne's but she went back home, she doesn't need it." he shrugs, " **P** lus we've got plenty back at Alexandria since- Y'know, you got that asshole off of our back- Does he- Does he treat ya right?"

" **T** hank you, Daryl." you simply say, dogging his question and taking the radio he's handing you, " **A** nd- Look, we'll have this conversation later, I'm not- I can't right now, alright?" you whisper, unconsciously eyeing Randall and Connor's graves, " **I** don't have the energy for it."

" **B** ut ya have the energy to walk back to that asshole, on foot, by yourself, when it's dark out?"

" **Y** eah, s'called priorities, Dixon, y'know?" you try and get a light, teasing tone but you can't hide your exhaustion from him. He knows you like his back pocket.

" **A** t least, let me walk a little with ya, please?"

" **F** ine." you let out with a sigh, " **B** ut then you get back to safety, alright?"

" **L** ook who's talkin'." he says, playfully pushing your shoulder and, yeah, for a moment, as you're talking to him, you almost forget about where you are and why you're there but, sadly enough, the moment you turn around and your eyes fall on Randall's grave, it's like a huge wound tears wide open and now you have to deal with the bleeding and the sting of it, " **H** ey, take your time to say goodbye, sweetheart."

" **I** -I'm o-okay- I'm okay." you say but you can't resist the urge to kiss your hand and push it against the dirt covering Randall's body before grabbing your backpack and taking the hand Daryl is giving you, his thumb reassuringly stroking the skin of the back of your hand, trying to re-comfort you as best as he can and it means the world to you.

" **L** et's take the car, [y/n]. I'll drop you off a few miles away from this asshole's shithole so no one'll see me, alright? I know you want to-"

" **A** lright, let's." you whisper before getting in the car, leaving Daryl surprised at your easiness as he was ready to fight you to get you into the damn car but he doesn't complain and gets behind the wheel.

During the ride, the two of you don't really talk as he can clearly sense that you're heavy with pain and sadness, mourning your friend, missing him and beating yourself up for what happened to him, he also sees you stroking the black rose burned into the side of your left thumb. Something he has to remind himself to ask you about one of those days.

" **M** erle died because I told him that I wanted my brother back, he went out there and tried to killed that asshole. Merle took down a bunch o' his men but it wasn't enough, somethin' went to shit, I don't know what but it got him killed." he pauses to look at you and realizes that you're actually looking right back at him, " **T** hing is," he starts again, focusing back on the road, "I don't feel guilty. I don't feel bad, he did what he felt was right to do, y'know? The fuckin' asshole, hell, he was a good dude no matter how hard he tried to keep the racist, misogynistic redneck thing alive, he never was a good actor in my eyes."

" **W** ell, I've spend most of my time growing up with him and I can't curse without feeling terrible about it so, I'd say he was a pretty good dude and he sure as hell never taught me to hate in any way, quite the opposite actually."

" **R** emember when he almost got us killed by that crazy drug dealing crackhead?"

" **Y** eah, good times with the Dixons. Gooood times." you say with a small giggle, Daryl chuckling along and shaking his head.

" **W** e couldn't stop laughin' afterwards though I honestly felt like I was about to shit myself the whole time."

" **A** nd Merle was so calm, that was so scary to me, the dude himself wasn't scaring me, Merle's behavior was. What an ass, I swear." you say with a tired smile.

" **Y** eah, you can say that again." Daryl says, making the two of you laugh, " **I** 'm sorry 'bout Randall, sweetheart." he carefully says, " **I** know he meant-  _means_  a lot to ya and I can't imagine what you're going through, s'not fair and I'd make it all go away if I could."

" **I**  know you would, Daryl." you say barely above a whisper, trying not to cry again but you feel the tears coming so you shut yourself down and look out the window for the rest of the drive.

Two hours later, Daryl stops the car on the side of the road and looks at you, unsure of what to say or do, " **Y** ou radio me anytime you need anythin', alright?"

" **P** romise, I will. Thank you, Daryl, I needed a friend tonight and I'm glad you've magically appeared like that."

" **W** ell," he starts with a small chuckle, "actually, I was supposed to head back to Alexandria when I saw you- well, someone, just laying there and I wanted to check if, well, y'know, if it was a dead body that might have something so-"

" **W** ere you about to rob, Dixon?" you ask with a quirked up eyebrow but a small smile on your lips, " **S** hame on you."

" **I** hate you." he says with a shake of his head and a smile.

" **M** e too, with a burning passion." you giggle, making him chuckle.

" **W** hat were ya doing way out there anyway, [y/n]?" for a moment, Daryl is afraid he might have asked the wrong question when you let out a teary laugh and look up at him with a sad smile.

" **H** e, uh- He wanted- He wanted to be buried next to his best friend, Connor, so- Yeah."

" **W** ell, no matter how corny I'm about to sound right now, m'sure he's really happy and peaceful right now and it's thanks to you, [y/n]."

" **D** on't- I just- I can't, I'm sorry."

" **S** 'okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'hurt ya."

" **I** know, it's okay, you didn't, I just- I can't talk about him right now."

" **A** nd, listen- If you want to call that whole thing off? With Negan? Please, let me know-"

" **D** aryl," you start with an exhausted, sad laugh, "right now? I want everything to stop, alright? I don't even- I don't even feel like breathing anymore so, just- I- I'm gonna get going before I change my mind and get the bright idea to run off again." you say, quickly kissing his cheek and getting out of the car, not letting him say anything back but he understands, **of course he does**.

You watch as Daryl drives away in one of Negan's cars and you can't help but feel cocky about it, karma's a bitch. With heavy feet, you head back to the Sanctuary, knowing damn well that **he** 's waiting for you and, yeah, maybe he understands that you needed space or maybe he'll stay true to himself and give you shit about going away for the day, either way, you're more than willing to shoot him in the dick at the moment.

As you're making your way there, you find peace in the sound of the crickets making sure they're presence doesn't go unnoticed, the cold air of the night, the light the moon is casting and the sound of the trees' branches moving around in the wind, for a moment, you remember why being alive might actually be worth something even with all the terrible things you're forced to go through day after day.

It feels like your depression as never shine as bright as it did today. You're exhausted, you're hurt and you can already feel the empty space Randall's death created in your life and it's tearing you apart. That's what caring does, doesn't it? Eventually, it fucking destroys you and leaves you completely hollow. There's nothing, **absolutely nothing** , it's just you and you hate you, you don't want you, you can't stand being left alone with you, it fucking terrifies you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, as I said, I'm still on "recovery" from my surgery but, hey, I'm okay in the main frame, just really tired is all ^3^  
> Also, I wanna say a big, big, big, thank you to all of you for all of your well wishes, you're all so freaking sweet and angelic and I luv you and you're important and I LOVE YOU DID I MENTION THAT? NO, COS I LUV YOUR FACES. ok, m'sorry, I'm okay.
> 
> I'm getting back on my normal schedule which is a new chapter each week-ends from now on, sorry the long terribly, not at all worth it, wait, I'm a terrible human being, I know.
> 
> Okay, I hope you're all safe, I freaking love you and you're super important, don't ever forget that.
> 
> ps // my tumblr changed, so, yeah // http://kingzgrimes.tumblr.com/ if ya wanna talk and all.


	24. Stains on her heart //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD UP, BEFORE YOU START THE CHAPTER, PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE IS STRONGLY MENTIONED SEXUAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER AND THOUGH IT DOES HAVE A REASON TO HAPPEN AND IT'S PART OF MAKING THE OFC GROW, THAT SHIT CAN BE REALLY HARD TO READ THROUGH (hell I triggered my fucking self while writing it so, yeah) SO, PLEASE, BE CAREFUL WITH THAT. AS ALWAYS, IF YOU NEED ANYONE TO TALK TO, I'M RIGHT HERE, I ALWAYS WILL BE AND I'LL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO TALK TO YOU OR EVEN LET YOU VENT OUT IF YOU NEED TO, DO NOT HESITATE, I'M HERE.

**1:15 AM //**

You're unsure of exactly how long you've just been laying there, in the middle of the concrete road, un-bothered by the hungry grunts coming from the walkers guarding the Sanctuary's entrance, the faded noises bringing you more reassurance than fear, just looking up at the stars covering the night sky as you recall your father once explaining you that; if the night sky is filled with stars, it usually means that the next day will be bright and sunny and, honestly, at this point, you can only hope that it's actually a thing because the last couple of weeks have been seriously cold and you don't really have the luxury of synthetic warmth nowadays.

 _well, negan does... fucker and his stupid fucking chimney, making the rest of his stupid fucking people get warm with a fucking stupid kitchen stove or a fucking stupid iron to their stupid fucking face_.

" **F** ucking stupid fucks." you bitterly whisper and decide to sit up, a low grunt leaving your mouth as you do, your body clearly enjoying some time off and you gotta admit that you did as well.

It just feels nice to be outside- Well, at least for you it does. You like being alone, every since you started to walk properly on your own two feet, you've made an habit out of climbing on houses' rooftops and just lay there to look up at the sky at night, it's the one thing that could ever kill all the bad things going on inside your mind and all around you, it worked better than any pills ever could and no drugs you've ever been on was ever able to keep you this calm and appeased.

It's insane when you think about it but, truth be told, you only started to truly and wholly enjoy your own company when the world got turned upside down yet, you were used to being alone before as well, and you'd always tried to convince yourself that that's what you wanted, that you preferred it that way, but **you didn't**. 

You hated it, you hated that terrible feeling called loneliness that never missed an opportunity to remind you of just how alone and lost you were but, oddly enough, after the whole world came crashing down, that feeling just vanished. You didn't feel lonely anymore, you were just a girl who enjoyed her own company, who knew what she wanted, what she was all about, you **loved** that feeling.

That said feeling kept you safe for so long but it never kept you from getting close to people. You've been with a few groups here and there but, though it didn't work out, you've never felt like your whole world had been crushed and turned to dust when it eventually came to the point where the people around you would either die, get lost, or just run off, you just kept going. 

You were able to keep the good memories though you never forgot the awful bad ones and kept rolling with them, taking comfort in the good ones and toughening yourself up with the bad ones, your brain had finally found a way to properly function through the deep depression that was making it so dysfunctional at times, and still does right now, and **it was good**. You even believed you were happy at some point.

Then, maybe you ended up all alone for too long, you're not sure what caused it, really, but things changed. Your brain, with the huge help of the depression holding it hostage, decided that you were better off on your own after all, that there was no point whatsoever in joining groups because they were all bound to die or leave you alone again anyway and, at the time? It made so much sense to you. 

It made sense because things were going good for you, after all, your heart was still beating and you would always find a way to make it through another day so, yeah, at the time, being alone was something you'd learned to appreciate and, at some point, even protect with every fiber of your being.

Thing is, alone, you're more vulnerable. You became a target, an """easy catch""" as some of the men you've encountered would call it. But, hell, at this very instant, as you're going through the memories of your past life as a loner; you're alive, they're not, and you can't help but scoff at the thought.

Every single person who's ever dared to think of you as a fragile little girl, lost and looking for people to take care of her, coo her, is now dead. They're not dead because they said the wrong thing or looked at you in a way that you didn't appreciate, no, you're not a heartless psychopath, you don't just kill people because you don't like the way they look at you, you've killed them because you had to and now those dumb fucks' blood is on your hands as if you ever asked for this shit to happen.

So many people tried to take advantage of you, mostly men looking for sexual favors you were less than willing to give out and, though you hate to even think about it, these scumbags **destroyed** you. They crushed you and forced you to let your mask fall to reveal that you actually were, and still are to this day, a naive, vulnerable and shy girl, only trying to do good and get by. They loved that part, you know they did, they never made a point of hiding it.

For this point on, it just became easier and easier for people to push themselves upon you and you hated it. You hated being alive, having to go through this kind of things though you would always find a way to get away from those pigs, it felt like it was only for you to end up into another's arms.

The whole Jason thing was nothing compared to the kind of nightmare-ish treatments you've been put through before you've met Negan, **nothing at all**. You still remember the terrible thing your mother's multiple and seriously creepy boyfriends pulled on you when you were just a little girl, missing her deceased father and struggling to understand why her own mother suddenly didn't love her anymore.

" **D** on't." you whisper to yourself, begging your mind not to go there as the last thing you want to do right now is remember the literal monsters your own mother exposed you to at such a young age.

You finally get up and, for a good minute, you stand there, your eyes glued to the radio Daryl gave you earlier on as you contemplate running away again but you force yourself not to think about it because you're way too ready and willing to actually run off again but you can't. You care about Daryl and the people back at Alexandria way too much, you can't afford it, not anymore.

" **A** nd that's why I should have kept to myself." you mumble angrily through clenched teeth, reminding yourself just how "normal" you life would be right now if you had just managed not to fucking run back to Negan every damn time you ran off, you wouldn't know that Daryl's still alive and somewhat well and you sure as shit wouldn't have met his people which means that you wouldn't fucking care about them and that you wouldn't have such a huge, heavy weight to carry on your tired and sore shoulders right now, " **G** uess life's what you make of it. Right, Luna?" you say with a small smile as you look up at the night sky.

You stand in front of the Sanctuary for what feels like hours but it's only been a few seconds before you take a deep, shaky breath and decide to push the gate open to let yourself in, one of the walkers guarding the place almost making you pee yourself when it pushes angrily against the fence. You almost forgot about their presence.

_damn, are we really that used to that awful smell and those damn noises?_

" **T** his sucks." you whisper as you directly get inside the compound, ignoring the looks you're getting from the men working the night shift though you can't deny your urge to punch them in the face with a baseball bat.

 _we need to stop hanging out with Negan_.

You finally get inside the compound and you just stand there, looking up at the deck perched above the main working area, the same deck that leads directly to Negan's quarters and, you hate yourself for it but, you start feeling the need to get up there and go talk to him, you're seriously in need of some comfort right now.

" **W** hat a crappy day." you whisper before starting to walk towards the staircase leading up to Negan's quarters deck all whilst nervously pulling at your blood covered fingers, completely forgetting that you are, in fact, still covered in walker's guts and blood but also probably some of Randall's which doesn't really help calm you down. If anything, it actually makes it all much, much worse, setting your anxiety to an all time high tonight.

You finally reach the big doors leading to Negan's parts of the compound and push them open before sneaking in. You immediately hear voices coming from the open "living room" or " _the room where a bunch of grown women spend their entire day painting their nails and gossiping like teenagers_ " and you decide to eavesdrop on a conversation Negan seems to be having with no other than Sherry.

They're at the bar, she's sitting on one of the stools and he's behind the counter, making himself a drink with what seems to be a permanent smirk on his lips, " **S** o, you wanna explain to me why you actually fucking promised Amber some dumb shit just to get her to beat [y/n] up? Cause I don't fucking get it, doll."

_"doll"... nothing but toys and you fall in the same damn category..._

" **I** told her- Look, I told her that she'll get to go back to her husband if she did that because I actually believed it, alright?"

" **D** amn, and here I was, thinking I knew how women worked and shit."

" **O** h, yeah, you sure have it all figured out, haven't ya?" she teases and you can actually hear her let out an actually sweet, friendly laugh which is weird to you because you actually thought that all she could produce was obnoxious giggles.

_like a chicken on helium... a dumb fucking chicken on helium._

" **A** w, now you're just being mean, doll." he replies with a cocky laugh and it makes you want to punch his face off and send it to the fucking moon.

" **L** isten, it's been months, Negan... How did you not get what the hell was actually going on? I mean, c'mon, our fucking obnoxious behavior, the constant bitching, hell, I've been a real bitch to that poor girl ever since she came in, how the hell have you not figured it out yet?"

" **H** ey now, I get it, you're jealous, it happens, but it ain't no reason-"

" **N** o, Negan, we're not fucking jealous for fuck's sake!" she starts, picking your interest even more, " **W** e saw the way you look at her, the way you treat her and you talk about her, alright? And we- Fuck, we thought that she could have been our ticket out of this fucking thing you've got going on, alright?"

_oh you can fuck right off, y'fucking snake._

" **W** ell, shit, you've just hurt my feelings, doll." he says and you can fucking hear the smirk on his lips as he talks.

" **W** e thought you'd get fed up and let us go back to our lives and whatnot but, once again, you misread all this shit and completely missed the point. C'mon, Negan, I never wanted to hurt that poor girl, alright? And I feel like crap for the shit I've done and said to her and- Damn it."

" **S** o, you wanna leave me, doll? You ain't happy here anymore, that it?" he teases, once again completely discarding what the person in front of him was previously saying and you can feel your heart tightening at his words.

_w-what does he care if they actually want to leave? i mean- isn't he, like- didn't he say he was gonna get rid of them?_

" **S** orry to break it to ya, honey, but, we never were happy here in the first place, you took our lives away from us, and for what?"

" **C** ause I'm a real piece of shit and I love when people pet my fucking ego, doll."

" **I** s that what we do, Negan? Pet your gigantic ego?"

" **F** unny you'd say that." he teases and you actually puke inside your mouth when you put the dots together and realize that he's reffering to his damn dick and it actually makes her laugh.

" **Y** ou're a piece of shit." and there's that obnoxious giggle again.

" **I** know, and you left the love of your fucking life without even thinking about it to come crawling in front of me."

" **S** he deserves better, Negan." she says, making you frown.

_don't you talk about me, ya cunt._

" **I** know. That's the thing though, isn't it? You know damn well that I need my fucking fix when it comes to feeling powerful, she doesn't give that to me 'cause she doesn't give a shit about hurting my goddamn ego and that's a fucking turn on but, damn- I know I'm a piece of shit and I also know that she does deserve better but, guess what? She's all fucking mine, the air she fucking breathes, the way she behaves and her fucking potty mouth when she gets all mad and wind up? It's all fucking mine and no one else will ever get to have that nor to fucking try and touch it."

" **Y** ou're so fucking selfish, I don't know what she sees in you."

" **W** hen it comes to her, selfish isn't even the fucking word for it, doll. It's much, much worse than that. I'll fuckin' kill whoever touches her or even breathes to fucking close to her. Yeah, I'm fucking selfish and yeah it's hurting her but I don't give a shit 'cause she's mine and I'll always make sure that she fucking knows, I don't even give a shit if she ends up hating my fucking guts."

_wait- what? is he literally admitting that he's been treating you like shit to keep you around? what the hell? wait- hold on- why the fuck do you actually see romance in that? that's the fucked up, even for us, get it together, [y/n], for fuck's sake..._

You're about to walk away as you feel tears stinging your eyes but, just as you're about to, you hear noises you did not want to fucking hear and it's not even sexual noises. Nope, it's the sound of them kissing. He's kissing someone else, he's actually putting his mouth on someone else's and it fucking hurts, way more than you would have ever imagined it could.

_those sluts..._

You, for some goddamn reason, decide to look into the room only to see what you clearly didn't want to fucking see. He's kissing her and she has her hands resting on his covered chest and it makes you see red and you feel like you could cry of anger but, well... You normally would but, right now? You're not angry, at all, it just hurts, plain and simple hurt.

It's like you're used to it, like it shouldn't even come as a surprise anymore, like you don't even get to be angry because it somehow all became normal, like you always knew that this would be a war you wouldn't win no matter what and you somehow got over it by now.

_wait- but- wait- doesn't he, like- fuck, doesn't he care about us at least a little bit?_

Your hands and legs start to shake violently as the tears in your eyes now completely block your view, threatening to spill but you can't let that happen, **not for him** and especially  **not in front of her**, so you run off. You turn your back to them in an attempt to walk away but your movements caught Sherry's attention.

" **O** h, crap-" she whispers softly but when you look back at her, you spot a small but clearly there smile on her lips and it does nothing to appease you nor the hatred you're feeling towards her.

_rip her fucking head off with your teeth!_

" **H** ey there, angel." Negan says oh so casually, a boyish grin on his fucking stupid face.

_do not act like this shit didn't just happen, [y/n], i swear to fucking god, do not-_

" **H** -Hey, I-I was just- I was just- I-I'm s-sorry." you clumsily mutter in a whisper, a single tear daring to escape your eyes but you quickly wipe it away and decide to walk away from the pair before this whole situation somehow gets more painful for you because it just seems to be a recurring thing in your life ever since Negan came into it; you get hurt, **a whole fucking lot**.

" **G** o to your room." he coldly orders Sherry, his demeanor now completely different, before walking off to try and catch up to you though he already has an idea as to where you're heading off to anyways.

Not five seconds get to pass before you hear Negan walking behind you and you don't even need to turn around and look at him to know that he's smirking, it's so damn annoying to you that you can actually feel that shit.

" **L** -leave me alone, N-Negan." you say without even turning to face him nor stopping your steps, trying to sound as cold as possible but it all comes out as a messy cry for help.

You don't get to take another step towards the exit when one of Negan's hands gets a hold of your right arm and drags you with him into his office, " **L** et g-go of me!" you protest, once again failing to hide just how scared and vulnerable you actually are, your feet trying pushing into the floor to try and get away from his grip but the man is way stronger than you are so you still end up into his office, accidentally letting a sob out the second you hear to door clicking shut as he locks it.

You don't even get the chance to try and protest some more before he gets his hands right back on you and drags you to his bedroom, your heart beating out of your chest, panic and fear starting to really get to you now. You two stand there as your brain tries to process the fact that you are locked inside of Negan's bedroom with the man himself, nowhere to go, your emotions a tangled mess and tears ready to burst out of your eyes any second now.

" **D** oll-" he starts and that seems to be enough to break the dam.

" **S** top calling me that!" you finally snap, " **I** 'm not a fucking toy! I'm sick of it, you call them whatever the fuck you want but, from now on?" you start taking advantage of a sudden burst of confidence, " **I** 'm off limit to you, let me make it fucking clear that I'm only staying around because I love Daryl and his family and that's **all** there is and ever will be! No more games, no more pet names, you don't touch me and you sure as shit don't kiss me anymore, I'm out! I don't want to play your games anymore, it's messing with my head and I **always** end up being the one getting hurt, Negan! It's not fair, I would never hurt you on purpose but you don't give a crap, hell-" you pause with a frustrated laugh, " **W** anna know what the worst part is? I still don't think that you're a bad man, Negan!" you let out with a sad laugh, your face scrunched up with sorrow as you look up at him, the man that terrifies you yet makes you feel so safe, the man that hurts you so bad yet makes you so damn giddy and happy, " **Y** ou just- You keep them and- just- let me be, alright? Please? I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please, Negan, you can't keep me into this thing, I can't-"

" **A** lright, then... Kitten it is." he says with a small smirk on his lips, clearly ignoring your last words though he did hear them loud and clear and they did hit him right in fucking face.

" **N** egan, please-" you plead, exhausted and upset that he's not acknowledging your words.

You almost start to cry when you see him walking up to you and stop right in front of you, making you feel so damn small and vulnerable as he always does, " **Y** ou're mine, baby girl." he says freakishly softly before bringing his right hand up to your face and you can't help but push your face further into his palm, you hate yourself for it but you can't help it, you love when he touches you, it's nothing new, " **I** fucking hate to see you hurtin' but, goddamn, for the hundredth fuckin' time, you don't get to call the shots. You're mine and that's not up for debate, pretty girl." he finishes, his tone soft yet firm, leaving no room for debates, a sob leaving your mouth because of how tired and upset you are right now.

This man is getting more and more unhealthy for you and you're getting a taste for it which you don't much care for, " **N** ow, you go take a shower and get some rest then we'll have a conversation about your lil' outburst tomorrow, baby girl." he says before leaning in a leaving a kiss on your lips which your face scrunches up at and you don't return but it only makes him smirk.

" **N** -Negan, pl-please, I-I can't-" you plead yet again but this time with sobs interrupting you every second.

" **F** 'course you can, baby, and you will." he says before kissing your forehead and heading towards the door of his bedroom, opening the door and stopping there, " **Y** 'know, if it can make you feel any better, I didn't screw any of 'em ever since you came back, kitten. S'only you, y'know that. Now, get to bed, sweetheart. Sleep tight." he finishes before getting out of the room and closing the door behind him, actually locking the damn thing, keeping you locked up in the room, leaving you in tears and completely lost in the middle of the gigantic bedroom.

He's never been so calm yet so damn cold and terrifies you just to think about it. You try so hard to push it way back in a corner of your mind but you can't help but connect his behavior to mental abuse, you know that's exactly what it is but you hate to admit it because you don't actually mind it coming from him, you always find him some kind of excuse, **always**.

You know it's part of who he is, he probably doesn't even realize what his behavior classify as but, to someone like you, someone who's actually been through both physical and mental abuse, it's crystal clear. Yet, you can't seem to be able to get mad at him for it, you hate how much you look up to this man.

Though he spoke softly and calmly, you find yourself wishing that he would have yell at you, insult you with every cruel words he knows or even hit you rather than act the way he did. It fucking broke and terrified you, you never thought that even him could make you feel so damn unimportant and vulnerable. You feel completely bare to him and you hate that he thinks that he has the damn right to make you feel that way because he absolutely doesn't and, if he truly cared like he claims to do, he wouldn't even think of hurting you, ever. He would actually give you the space you so badly need and crave. Or maybe not, maybe that's just his own way of "caring" for you and maybe, just maybe, you enjoy it way more than you'd ever care to admit.

With a pained sigh, you take your backpack off of your shoulders before clumsily stripping out of your clothes, letting them fall on the floor, and you try not to think about the fact that you're locked in a room with nowhere to go, needless to say; you're not doing too good of a job so far. Your claustrophobia is alive and well and, if you weren't so damn hurt and tired, you'd be banging on the door begging for someone to open it but, instead, you silently drag yourself to Negan's bathroom and use the remaining energy you have left to take a shower, to get rid of all the blood on your skin and even some chunks of guts here and there.

After a short yet somewhat relieving shower, you wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel, open the door of the big bathroom and, out of habit, take a quick peak outside to check if the coast is clear for you to come out and, though you would have assumed that it would be, you let out a small gasp when you spot Negan inside the room, looking through the drawers of his dresser.

" **C** 'mon out, baby, I won't bite." he says with a chuckle before turning around to look at you and you swear you saw his eyes grow darker when they landed on you, making you shift uncomfortably, trying to somehow escape his intense glaze, " **N** ever fuckin' mind, then." he adds, his eyes finally landing on yours and you're quick to look down, making him laugh.

" **W** h-what are you do-doing?" you ask, genuinely curious as you nervously shift on your legs.

" **J** ust needed to change, kitten, s'all." he says before getting back to his dresser, " **H** ere ya go." he exclaims whilst dropping what you assume to be one of his shirts on the bed, his eyes glued on you, " **P** ut it on, baby, before you end up catchin' what you don't fucking have."

" **I** -is th-that y-yours?" you shyly ask as you take an hesitant step towards the bed and shakily grab the red and black flannel shirt he's pull out for you to wear.

" **Y** eah, why d'you ask? Ya think I only wear generic white shirts?" he asks with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

" **W** -well, y-yeah? K-kinda?" you confess, your cheeks burning when you hear him chuckle at your timidity, loving just how flustered and shy you get, " **M** 's-sorry."

" **I** t's alright, kitten." he says before pausing just to take you in some more, " **H** ell, I'll wear it if you want, yeah?"

" **Y** es, please." you quickly say, looking up at him, unable to hide your excitement but you're quick to blush, embarrassed that you've just go so excited over such a small, stupid thing but you can't help it.

The fact that Negan is actually more than willing to do something, no matter how small, just for you does something to you, a whole bunch of things actually. It's that kind of moment that has coming back to him every time and you love every single second of it. And, though you haven't even realize it yet, he's only this way with you and you only which makes it all that much more special.

" **A** lright then, princess, you've got yourself a deal." he says with an amused grin, " **N** ow, put the damn thing on before you get sick. I'm not repeatin' myself again."

You tighten your grip on the shirt, nervously looking at Negan, hoping that he'll get the message and turn around or even leave the room to let you change but he only makes himself even more comfortable by resting his lower back against his dresser, a challenging smirk on his lips that doesn't help the burn spreading on your cheeks.

After an intense starring contest between you and the damn floor, Negan's eyes burning your skin from the other side of the room, you decide to turn your back to him and carefully push your towel down, exposing your upper body, to let it slide down on your waist where you create a knot to secure it in place.

Sure, you could go back inside the bathroom and get dressed there, in peace, but something tells you that your legs will not cooperate and you don't really want to risk the embarrassment, not when Negan's eyes are fixed on you.

You clumsily unbutton the flannel shirt, a wince of pain escaping you the second you decide to try and slip your right arm into a sleeve, your shoulder throbbing, the bullet wound there clearly unhappy with your recent activities and, you have to admit, you know that you haven't been treating it like you should have. Hell, you can't even remember the last time you took a single day off to just rest and let your body catch a fucking break, give it a chance to heal in peace.

" **Y** ou need some help with that, princess?" Negan asks, his breath hitting the back of your bare nake indicating you that he's now way closer than he previously was, making you jump.

" **Y** -yes, please." you respond shyly, your hands coming up to your breasts to cover them up as Negan walks around you and stops right in front you, letting an amused huff out when he spots your hands on your chest.

" **H** ands off, kitten, y'can put the damn thing on otherwise." he says with a small smirk as you look at him like he's talking in some kind of alien language, " **C** 'mon, [y/n]. Lemme see you, pretty girl."

" **I** -I know that- that you- that you've already s-seen- bu-but- I d-dunno- I just-" you mumble, your shyness keeping you from clearly expressing yourself but he gets it, **he always does**.

" **H** ow 'bout this, then," he proposes before swiftly stripping himself off of his leather jacket and taking his white tee-shirt off just to carelessly throw the piece of clothing on the floor, "there. S'your turn now, kitten."

" **M** mh?" you mumble, your cheeks about to burst into flames, once you realize that you've been doing absolutely nothing but stare at his bare chest for the next couple of seconds, you even stopped breathing.

" **Y** our hands, baby, get 'em off." he demands, not even bothering to hide his amusement as your cheeks look ready to let some steam out.

The only sound in the room is the sound of you thickly swallowing your spit as you hesitantly let your shaky hands slip away from your chest, completely exposing your bare upper body to the man in front of you and all you can do to keep yourself from crying out of embarrassment is to keep yourself busy so you glue your eyes to one of the tattoos on his upper body.

" **I** d-didn't know y-you were t-tattooed." you shakily let out as he proceeds to bring your right arm into the shirt's sleeve, trying to be as careful as he possibly can manage to be. He's been shirtless around you before but the circumstances always made it so you've never had the chance to actually stop and take the time to take a good, long look at him, to actually stop and appreciate what's in front of you, " **I** -I mean, that you had some on y-your chest too." you clarify, recalling that he also has tattoos on his arms which you've already took quick peaks at here and there.

" **Y** eah? Well, can't fuckin' blame ya for not payin' attention now, can I, baby?" he teases as he finally gets your right arm into the damn sleeve, " **L** ast time I was shirtless with you, you were focused on another part of my body, kitten." he teasingly adds just to get you flustered so much, that awfully annoying smirk of his marking his lips, " **N** ot complainin' though. At all."

" **T** h-thank you." is all you manage to whisper, thanking him for helping your right arm into the sleeve, not for reminding you of that very specific moment of your life, the tension from the memory eating you alive.

You clumsily shove your left arm into its respective sleeve, trying really hard to button the damn shirt up but your shaky fingers are in no way cooperating with you, not tonight.

" **Y** ou're very fucking welcome, baby girl." he teases with a playful smile on his face, " **L** et me get that for ya, yeah?" he says more than he asks for your permission, swatting your hands away from the shirt to let his get to work.

The feeling of his fingers barely grazing your skin is covering your arms and stomach in goosebumps that you can't hide from him. It's insane just how sensitive you actually are, you know that that's just how your body works and how your skin processes any kind of touch but, **his** touch is definitely something else.

His touch burns in the most delicious way there is, his touch is something you crave and need, something you find yourself missing more than you care to admit. This man is slowly killing you and you're seriously getting a strong liking for it, for him and his twisted mind which you're getting an even stronger **distaste** for. Nothing makes sense anymore, you gave up on trying to understand what the hell's going on in your mind whenever it comes to Negan a **long** time ago.

" **N** -Negan?" you ask, looking down at his hands after you've felt them stop dead in their tracks right below the swell of your bare breasts, your eyes now glued to them like they might burn you.

" **Y** ou're shakin', kitten." he says as he looks down at your shaking hands and legs that seem to be completely frozen by either fear, embarrassment or purely by your natural extreme shyness, he's unsure but he hates to think that you might actually be scared of him, that you might actually be so damn scared that it makes your body freeze and shake like that.

" **M** -m'so-sorry." you whisper, almost afraid to actually speak to him now that you're in such a vulnerable state.

" **S** ay, what d'you think I should do to ya for eavesdropping like you did tonight, huh, kitten?" he asks, his hands making contact with your skin and you swear you can feel them burning you, " **A** nd what about you aiming a gun at two of my people and fuckin' running off again? What d'you think, angel?" he insists, his hands slowly getting up to each side of your ribcage, his thumbs tracing the length of your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake.

Needless to say, no words actually come out of your mouth, just shaky, small breaths. You're lost, exhausted and in complete panic without mentioning that your chest is still completely exposed to him and, though there's the towel covering it, your lower body is completely bare as well but it doesn't seem to be enough to make Negan go easy on you, at all. 

He actually loves to see you like that, to see just how vulnerable you actually are, something you always try and hide from other people but can't hide from him, " **I** asked you a goddamn question, baby. I expect an answer, right fucking now would be real lovely." he presses you, trying to test the waters, to see how far he can push until you completely break in his grip.

" **I** -I don't- I d-don't- M's-s-sorry." you messily whisper, trying really hard to regain a little bit of composure but the fact that he's looking straight into your eyes, and that his hands are agonizingly slowly making their way to your bare breasts still, doesn't help you calm down, not at all.

" **Y** ou don't know? Well, here's what I fuckin' know; I know that you've pointed a fucking gun at both Arat and Simon, that you've fucking drove off in one of my cars and that you didn't come back two hours later but in the middle of the fucking night and, a lil' bonus, you were carrying a fucking gun around the compound without my goddamn permission. That's what I know." he says before getting even closer to you, a wicked smile appearing on his lips, " **A** nd we sure as shit ain't gonna forget about the tantrum you fuckin' threw tonight, kitten." he says, his voice low and its natural roughness doesn't exactly help to hide the effects this man has on you which he, of course, notices, his smile turning into a full-on wolfish grin, " **O** ff limits, uh? You really believe that I'd ever let you anywhere near out of my fuckin' reach, baby? Really?"

" **M** 's-sorry." you whisper, apologizing being the only thing you seem to be able to do right at this instant.

_he kissed someone else, he betrayed you, he lied to you, again! stop fucking apologizing for fuck's sake!_

" **Y** ou mind tellin' me what's got you so goddamn worked up, kitten?"

" **I** -I'm not- I'm not-"

"Yeah, you are. Y'think I can't fell that shit? C'mon baby, you should know better than to try and hide shit from me, 'specially anger. I get it, you don't like feelin' that shit but it's there for a fucking reason. Wanna know why it's fucking buggin' the shit outta of you, princess?" his eyes never leave yours though they sure as shit are actively avoiding him, " **A** nger's what you feel when someone crossed a fucking line, when some asshole steps into your safe zone and tried to mess with your shit, kitten. So, let's see, I know today's been a rough fucking day for you with Randy boy and all-"

_he hated that nickname..._

" **I** just- I just want to g-go to sleep, Negan. Please." you plead in a whisper, apparently unable to raise your voice any higher, tears still drowning your eyes and making them shine in the bright light illuminating the big bedroom.

" **I** know ya do, [y/n], and you will when you'll have let that shit out of your goddamn system. C'mon, I know it's right at the tip of your damn tongue, baby, tell me." he keeps on pushing you and you're starting to feel smaller and smaller in front of him, " **I** t's 'cause of Sherry and I, baby? S'that it?" he asks though he already damn well knows that that's exactly what finished to break you today.

And, though he wasn't really expecting it, he actually receives and shy nod from you, confirming his words but you're still avoiding his stare, afraid that you might burst into tears if you look at him for too long. You're too tired and vulnerable be to having this conversation, " **W** -why w-were you ki-kissing her?" you finally manage to push out of your throat.

"' **I** t ain't nothing you should worry your pretty lil' head about, kitten." he says, not comfortable enough to tell you that he did what he did because he needed to feel powerful one way or another after seeing you so damaged and being powerless to it.

" **O** h." is the only tiny little sound that you manage to let out, your vision getting blurry with tears. You're hurt, you don't want him anywhere near you but you don't want him to leave you alone either. You want his hands off of your skin but you love the burning heat they leave on it.

_this is so fucked up._

" **H** ey, how 'bout you look at me, princess." he orders with a still somewhat soft tone in his voice before letting his hands run from your ribcage up to your breasts, your pierced nipples immediately reacting to his touch and you can't stop the needy whine that comes out of your mouth when he decides to let his thumbs linger a little too long on the sensitive nubs, your eyes finally finding his again, " **Y** ou want daddy all to yourself, don't you, baby?"

" **Y** -yes, 'w-wanna be your baby ju-just me." you finally give in, not able to lie to him when his eyes are on yours and his hands are touching you.

" **N** ow that's what I like to fuckin' hear, kitten." he says clearly satisfied to finally hear you say the words, a smirk on his lips as his eyes keep on going from yours to your painfully hard nipples trapped below his thumbs before he adds his indexes into the mix and starts to play with the barbell going through the sensitive buds, your back arching to push your chest further into his hands, your greediness shinning through and he loves it. He loves that he's the only person who ever gets to touch you like he does, to have that powerful hold on you, to make you so damn needy for his, and his only, touch, " **Y** ou're so damn needy, kitten."

Though you'd love to actually be able to blame it on the fact that you're exhausted, emotionally drained, feeling terribly vulnerable and upset, you know that's not why you don't say a world nor try to fight it when his hands abandon your breasts to snake down and around your bare thighs and hoist you up to have you even closer to him.

" **R** elax, kitten." he whispers against the side of your head and you don't say anything to that, you just hide your face into the crook of his neck and tighten your grip around his neck and waist, seeking comfort but more specifically reassurance from him and him only.

" **I** want Daryl." you sob against his skin, only realizing that you've actually said those words out loud, to Negan might you add, when all you receive in return is a dry chuckle from him.

" **L** et's get ya to bed, yeah? Yeah." he sharply says before walking the two of you at the edge of his bed, never letting go of you even a little bit, before he sits you down on the neatly made bed.

Your first reflex as he puts you down on the mattress is to try and put distance between the two of you but he knows you too damn well and already has his hands ready to grab your legs to bring you right back to him, his force launching you into his chest and you feel like crying when you realize just how appeasing his smell is to you now that you're completely pressed flat against his bare chest.

There's a terribly crushing silence floating heavily into the room but, as usual, Negan doesn't seem to be bothered by how scared you clearly are, call it whatever you will; twisted, fucked up, disgusting, unhealthy, maybe even abusive, but he actually gets off on it, on you being so goddamn submissive to him.

He loves seeing you crash and burn right in front of him, not only because he loves having this kind of power over you but mostly because he's the only person that gets to see you like that since you never let anyone know how you truly feel. With him, it's different, you try really hard not to let yourself become an open book for him to read out loud but it seems like, no matter how hard you try, you can't hide your feelings whenever he's around. 

Let it be fear, anger, sadness or pain, whatever you're feeling is what he gets, whatever mood you're in he's the you he gets and he fucking loves that.

He still has no clue whatsoever on how to get you to open up to him but he knows that he'll get there eventually, he already has noticed a whole bunch of shit that you do whenever you feel certain things; you pull on your fingers when you're scared or extremely nervous, you bite your lips and the inside of your cheeks, you always pull at the hem of your shirts, you always push your food around in your plate so that it looks like you've ate more than you actually did which he hates, you play with your butterfly knife to distract you when you get anxious or upset, all those little things people don't get to see if they don't pay close enough attention to you he knows by heart.

Now, does he enjoy feeling superior? Hell yes. Does he enjoy having people shaking at the mere thought of him? Most definitely. Does he get a kick out of being feared and respected because the person in front of him doesn't have any other choice but to give him said respect? Of course. Is he fucked up in every way? Yup. Does he want to change? Not a fucking chance.

And, though he genuinely hates knowing that you might actually be afraid of him, he doesn't really mind it as long as he doesn't spot the same fear he spots into the eyes of someone he's about to kill or even the fear that's in the eyes of every single person working for him in **your** eyes, not while you're looking at him. He knows he couldn't handle it. He gets off on you being pliant and obedient, not on you being genuinely terrified.

Thing is, with you? It's not about power, he doesn't want you to fear him like he wants other people to fear him, even his so-called "wives". He doesn't want nor feel like he needs that from you, at all. But he loves being in control when it comes to you, he loves being the one feeding you, he loves that he gets to punish you when you "get out of line", hell, he loves that he gets to say what "out of line" is and you'll just go with it because you're so damn eager to be good and you'll actually accept punishment because you genuinely feel bad about "misbehaving".

Though, he can't lie, he can't imagine ever punishing you just for the sake of it. Sure he loves a good spanking session, watching you writhe on his lap and listening to you whine and thank him for each spank he gives you but he loves praising you and letting you know just how good you did just as much if not more because he gets to see you blush and glow with pure happiness whenever he praises you and tells you he's proud of you.

The two of you have one hell of a fucked up relationship but he can't let it go, he doesn't want to. He loves it all way too much to just let slip away from him, he sees red at the mere thought of you being with somebody else, of someone else touching you and getting those pretty  noises he loves so fucking much to escape from your lips, it's all for him and, when Negan wants something, he doesn't fucking let go until he gets it all to himself.  It's to the point where it doesn't matter how badly he hurts you in the process because he knows he'll be right behind you to pick up the pieces. **He's that fucking selfish when it comes to you**.

After all, he's never been one to run after someone who clearly didn't want what he had to offer, he never gave a shit and that's what makes the damn difference with you; he fucking cares. He just cares in his very own "Negan" ways, that's all.

" **N** -Negan?" you whisper against his bare chest, making him snap out of his thoughts, " **N** egan, I'm-I'm sorry."

" **S** 'okay, kitten." he says before grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him, " **D** on't let me catch you sayin' those words again though, princess. S'not gonna pend so fuckin' well for ya next time, we clear?" he says, his voice dangerously low, before leaning towards you to plant an oddly gentle kiss on your lips but you can't even find the strength to kiss him back, refusing him yet another kiss tonight which makes him smirk yet again, " **Y** eah, daddy fucked up real bad, didn't he?" he teases, referring to the kiss he's previously shared with another woman, " **B** ut you fucked too, didn't ya, kitten?"

_don't you dare..._

" **W** h-"

" **D** addy's been told that you've been playing tongues with lil' Randy boy while I was out there lookin' for you, worrying my fuckin' ass off."

_randall did not die for that... he better not have fucking died for that._

" **S** 'not- S'not l-like that-"

" **O** h yeah? How's it like then, sweetheart?"

" **I** d-don't- I dunno." you give up, letting tears silently roll down your face, waiting, craving the moment you'll end up passing out from exhaustion.

" **I** didn't kill him, baby. I could've, really fuckin' wanted to, but I didn't." he gently says before tightening his grip on your jaw to get your attention back, your teary eyes falling back on his, " **I** didn't 'cause I didn't want my girl to be fuckin' mad at me."

" **C** -can I ha-have a p-pair of-of u-undies, pl-please?" you difficultly ask, ignoring his last words, thinking that, if you ignore them, you'll be able to forget what they just did to you, the comfort and reassurance those words just brought you when they shouldn't have.

" **I** didn't slip my fuckin' tongue in there, baby, y'know? That shit was far from a fuckin' kiss, need ya to fucking understand that, kitten."

" **I** d-don't- O-Okay, s'alright." you whisper, trying not to cry at the though of his lips touching someone else's but your body betrays you and a sob breaks its way through anyways.

_duuuuuude..._

" **Y** ou're a terrible fuckin' liar, baby girl." he whispers, his voice rough but soft.

You fight the urge to turn yourself into a ball as some more sobs start to join the party you've got going on but, to your surprise, you don't have to fight it all for too long because Negan's arms lift you up off his bed, the towel covering your lower body taking its chance to give up on you and it only adds up to your list of things to cry about, but he doesn't say anything about it.

He gently brings his hands on your bare butt to keep you safely against him, your legs snaking around his waist, your head hiding away into the crook of his neck, your tears falling out of your eyes to then roll down his skin.

" **B** aby, calm down, s'okay. I got you." he hushes you, rocking you into his arms, his lips right against your temple, his presence making you feel safer than you've ever felt yet he's the same man who pushed you into the state you're in at this very moment.

You're confused, confused and lost, but you're not willing to question it right now.

After a few minutes of him trying to calm you down, he gently sits you back down on his bed and walks away, leaving you to your tears, before walking back to you with a pair of boxer briefs that he carefully slips up your legs and he even carries you up to slip the materials underneath your butt, finally covering you up, and it makes your stomach tighten even more. His actions are gentle and his attentions nothing but good and it only serves to confuse you even further, this man is fucking with your head.

You can't help yourself when your hands snake around the back of his neck to pull him down towards you, a needy whine slipping past your lips though there's still tears rolling down your tired face, and you finally give into him, giving him what he so badly wanted and needed and giving into your cravings as you kiss him like your life depends on it.

Your hands messing his hair up, the gel keeping them in place not standing a chance. He quickly responds to your kiss, deepening it and firmly gripping an handful of each of your butt cheeks in each of his hands, making you yelp into his mouth as you keep on reclaiming his lips, a single word repeating inside your head and his; **mine**.

 

  **5:00** **AM** **//**

Your nose scrunches up in a displeased grimace when your eyes open up, your legs stretching themselves out under the satin sheets covering your body. You let out a quiet grunt, not too happy about your body waking up on its own like that, before letting your eyes fall on Negan who's deeply asleep right next to you, his head turned towards you as if he fell asleep watching you.

Anxiety is the first thing you feel as you barely start to awaken. Your mind is already freaking the hell out, your stomach turning into a huge knot yet again and, oh boy, do you regret waking up.

You carefully slip out from underneath the sheets of the big bed, quietly walking around Negan's bedroom to grab the dirty clothes you've left on the floor the night before, gathering them all up and pushing them against your chest not to drop any before carefully exiting the room, the door creaking a little, making you stop dead in your tracks to turn around and take a quick peak at Negan to make sure he's still asleep and, when it doesn't seem like the small noise has even slightly disturbed is sleep, you take advantage of his deep slumber to run off, carefully closing the door behind you.

Going through his apartment, you spot Lucille laid on top of the huge wooden desk in his office, the barbwire covering the bat covered in blood and bits of flesh. You shrug off the shudder that goes through your spine at the thought of the poor bastard that blood and bits of flesh belong to, what might have happened to him, what he could possibly have done to piss Negan off enough to kill him, wondering if that's even human's blood, might be a walker's for all you know.

Exiting his quarters, you finally get to the corridor leading to the workers' bedrooms and the common showers, the knot on your stomach still bothering you though you try not to pay too much attention as you learned that; paying attention to it only makes it grow bigger yet, even when you don't pay attention to it, it doesn't fucking go away either which, in a few words, means you're stuck with this bitch called anxiety for the rest of the day, maybe even the whole damn week.

  

**5:45** **AM** **//**

You don't ever want to leave that shower, **ever**. The warm water hitting your skin is the best damn feeling in the world and you can't seem to find the will to let it go this morning. Tired isn't even the world for you, maybe exhausted? You know what exhaustion feels like all too well and, let's be honest, no one your age should know what that damn feeling is but you do, you almost consider it a causality at this point.

Hell, you even find yourself wishing that you could feel such a thing as a simple little fatigue from time to time but, no, it's always **exhaustion**.

There's too many things going through your head at the moment, too many emotions are begging to be felt and dealt with at the same damn time, so much so that it's giving you an awful painful headache. You're feeling anger, sadness, both physical and mental pain, exhaustion, disgust, you feel betrayed, you feel useless, **unimportant**.

By the time you finally find the energy to get out of the shower, people are slowly waking up, some are coming in the showers with grumpy grunts, but you pay them no mind as you head for your bedroom, a frustrated groan erupting from your throat when you finally close the door of the room, the mere though of having to find clothes and put them on making you want to sob.

A smell in the room catches your attention, tears invading your eyes when you turn around only to realize that you went into Randall's room, not yours. His smell is all over the damn place, he's everywhere though there's nothing left of him in the room, it's just a blend, empty room again, it doesn't belong to anyone, to **him** , anymore. It's just a stupid, ugly room, nothing more.

You silently sit down on the mattress of the now empty bed, nothing covering it, no covers, nothing. The only thing on the mattress is a pillow and you can't fight the urge to bring it up to your nose, letting your head fall into the soft, plush material to inhale his scent, your heart swelling at the familiar smell, like a beacon in the storm happening in your head.

When you straighten yourself back up, you look around the empty room, secretly hoping for your eyes to find Randall standing there, a smile on his face but there's nothing, no one. He's gone and it's all too real for your mind to take it all in.

Something catches your attention though, there's two scrambled pieces of paper in the bin in the corner of the room and you almost fall flat on your face when you rush over to it though you hesitate when you finally get right in front of it.

You take a shaky breath and let your shaky hands clumsily grab one of the pieces of paper out of the bin, your heart skipping a beat when you unfold it, tears rolling down your eyes and a sob breaking through your mouth as your glossy eyes take in the drawing in front of them.

It's a drawing of Connor holding a little girl who you assume to be his little niece, the two of them are wearing the prettiest wings, a bright smile on their face and Connor is tightly holding onto the little girl, messing with her hair as she laughs, soft wrinkles drown underneath her eyes.

" **S** he looks so happy." you whisper to yourself. Connor mentioned her from time to time, you remember him saying she was only four when she passed but you never asked what happened, you couldn't to that to him. You just know that she passed after the world went to shit because Randall told you so and, in all honesty, you can't see her death being a peaceful, painless one if it happened after the outbreak which is almost why you've never asked.

You neatly fold the drawing and carefully put it down on the mattress behind you before reaching for the other piece of paper, wiping your previous tears away to get a clear view back though it's all in vain because, the second you unfold the piece of paper, your heart stops beating, your breath gets caught in your throat and tears start to roll back down on your face, sobs joining soon after.

It's another drawing, a drawing of you. It's all in soft colors, you're sitting on a wall, a smile on your face, a genuine one, with flowers in your hair, your bow and backpack sitting right next to you, your hands playing with your fingers but, right next to that version of the drawing, there's another one, an accurately heartbreaking one. It's you, yes, but this one is all in black and white.

You're wearing white, broken wings, tears are rolling down your face, there's a slight frown wrinkling your forehead but a smile on your lips still, blood streaming down both of your forearms and wrists and bruises staining your skin. The only thing colored in the drawing is the halo floating above your head as you're looking straight forward and it almost feels like that drawn version of yourself is blaming the real you for all the pain its feeling.

_m'such an asshole._

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you feel distress taking over you and you shakily fold the drawing in your hands, grab the other one off the mattress and shove the two pieces of paper underneath the towel covering your now dry, bare body before walking out of the room to lock yourself up in yours.

Honestly, you don't believe that you've ever felt so damn relieved to be in your bedroom.

 

**6:30 AM //**

You almost made it to the cafeteria, you almost walked in to try and have a quick breakfast, to try and eat the very least you could manage but your guts didn't let you.

The moment your eyes fell on Faith, Dwight and Arat having breakfast together, the moment they waved at you, inviting you to join them, you felt it. Anger came running back to you, the memory of Randall's reanimated corpse snapping its jaw at Arat, trying to steal a piece of her flesh, the look in her eyes when you put him down, silent apologies spilling out of them.

You're angry, angry at her, maybe not rightfully so, maybe it's just because she was the one who opened that damn door cell but, to you, it's like she forced you to put your best friend down by doing so, **that's how little you think of her at the moment**.

 **You hate her** , just looking at her gives you the urge to hurt her just as bad as yesterday has hurt you and you hate it. You hate that feeling, it scares you. It scares you because you know damn well just how much damages you can inflict when someone hurts someone you love and care for.

The fact that you can't help but picture her choking on her own blood just by looking at her is what makes you walk away, completely ignoring your friends who clearly are concerned about the potentially dark place your mind might be in right now, they don't believe that you realized just how dark your expression got when you saw them, it's the kind of glare that covers your whole body in goosebumps.

Your anger is still alive and well no matter how much you hate having to feel it and the fresh wound that yesterday cut into you is far from even beginning to heal. You're not in a good place, not at all, and even you realize it. You don't need a fucking therapy session to know that, you know your mind pretty damn well, **of course you know**.

Your footsteps are heavy, your combat boots clicking along with each step you take as you walk through the crowd of people running around the compound, trying to look good in case Negan suddenly decides to spawn out of fucking nowhere.

_meh, don't fucking jinx it, fucker seems to show up every time you think about him._

In your black, ripped jeans, the ones Randall gave to you, and an old grey tank top messily tugged into the waistband of your pants, the messy mop of short hair on your head falling on your forehead only for you to push a shaky hand through the locks to push them back every two minutes, you finally find something to do around the damn place to occupy your mind as much as possible.

You head into the big garage where Negan keeps his trucks, stopping in your tracks when you spot some dude throwing what looks like meat at the walkers guarding the place, shooting him a disgusted glare that actually makes him turn around to look at you.

" **M** ornin' sugar." he says with a sly smile like he's all that and you almost puke into your mouth.

" **W** hat'cha feeding those freaks with exactly?" you ask, your voice completely emotionless.

" **D** unno, it ain't my job to ask question, sugar. Ain't yours either."

_stop.calling.me.sugar.... ya cock._

" **W** hat a good lil' dog you are. I'd be impressed if it wasn't so pathetic." you say with a mean smirk on your lips before walking off though the man curses at you and keeps telling you not to walk away from him.

_blah blah blah, someone just got his manly ego kicked in its manly balls, poor thing._

" **Y** ou'll live, asshole." you whisper to yourself though your words are directed to him before laying on the hard ground of the garage to get working on one of the trucks Simon was complaining about a few days back, " **S** 'gonna be one long fucking day, darlin'." you whisper yet again talking to yourself before letting a sigh out and getting to work on the damn truck.

  
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**FLASHBACK //  A MONTH AGO //**

" **R** andall! Randall, where are you?!" you call out, desperately looking for your friend, checking every single dead body laying on the floor, right at your feet, praying that you won't find him in the sea of corpses.

The two of you were out for a small supply run when you got the bright idea to go and check what's left of an old university with a whole bunch of walkers roaming around outside in the parking lot of the closed off establishment.

You've both managed to take out them out, though you have to admit you've almost lost the upper hand a few times too many, but none of you knew that they also were **inside** the damn place and, when you've realized it, it was too late. You got separated as you both fought your way through the thick crowd of re-animated corpses, you swinging your knife left and right and Randall using an old hatchet you found him a couple of days prior to that.

So now, here you are, checking underneath every single body, making sure none of them will get back up, worrying sick about your best friend, praying you won't have to see something you don't **ever** want to see, " **D** amn it, how did I ever think this was a good idea, I'm so-" you get cut off in your ramblings by loud gun shots and you end up running around the big building, following the sounds until they start to make your ears ring slightly, confirming you that you're heading the right way or, at the very least, that you're getting closer to the action, " **R** andall!" you call out before pushing an heavy door open to find Randall trapped in what seems to be an old gym that had been turned into some kind of huge medical care center when all this shit went down, there's a bunch of military bunks, abandoned backpacks, walkers actually wearing military uniforms, some police officers and a bunch of what seemed to be **really** young people, all snapping their jaws and reaching for Randall as he's standing in a bunch of pilled up gym mats.

"[ **Y** /n], damn it, get the fuck out of here!" is the first thing he says when his eyes land on you.

" **I** 'm not leaving you, don't be an ass!" you yell back at him, catching just about every damn walker's in the room attention but you just go with it and pull your bow out, immediately starting to shoot a few but you can only manage to get two of your arrows back as they just keep walking towards you and you don't have time to get the three others back, " **F** uck me." you harshly whisper, knowing damn well that you only have a limited amount of arrows to spare and you now only have four left with three of them lost in a sea of walkers.

With the door of the gym closed, you find yourself cursing out loud, getting angrier by the minute as you're now completely out of arrows, all you can do is take comfort in the fact that you've made _every single_ arrow count, **every single one**. All you can do now is take your butterfly knife out and start pushing the sharp blade through a few skulls but, eventually, they out-number you. Luckily enough, Randall actually manages to shoot a bunch of them of off you before he, too, runs out of ammo.

" **F** uck, [y/n], you gotta get the hell out of here! Please!" he pleads, trying to keep an eye on you because he can't actually run to you thanks to the walkers that are still showing interest in him though you most definitely have a huge majority of them up in your shit right now.

" **I** 'm okay- Fuck's sake-" you curse, pushing one of them off of you as you try to speak to your friend, " **R** andall, listen to me! Get the hell out of here, they're on me right now - Get off you fucking freak!" you curse yet again, pushing the blade of your knife through an all too handsy walker's skull.

" **A** re you fucking insane? I'm not leaving-"

" **G** et the fuck out of here right now, Randall! Get out!" you firmly order whilst pushing some walkers off and actually putting some of them down, " **J** ust fucking go!" you insist when you don't see him move a damn muscle, " **P** lease!", you plead, way more concerned for him than you are for yourself and it has an heavier meaning than just you being a really selfless person.

" **L** ike hell am I." he says to himself before jumping off of his somewhat safe spot to come face to face with the walkers craving to take a bite out of him and immediately starts to swing the blade of his hatchet into their fragile skulls, " **J** ust keep 'em off of you, I'll be right here." he shouts before actually finishing to put every single walkers on his part of the gym down and he immediately runs to you, the motions and sounds getting some of the walkers' attention and, though you can't see him through the thick sea of re-animated corpses blocking your way, you can hear him grunting with effort and bodies heavily falling on the wooden floor of the gym.

" **W** hat the hell are you doing, Randall! Get the fuck out of here for fuck's sake!" you yell, angered by his behavior. You don't want him in danger and he just jumped in the middle of a bunch of walkers when he could have just gotten to safety while you were handling the situation- Well, "handling" the situation.

You finally get your hands on what used to be a soldier and manage to put him down before taking the machine-gun hanging on his back from him and, though you have no idea whatsoever of how much ammunition this thing has left in its magazine, you pray that it still has at least a single bullet because, at this point, everything will help, and you don't wait another second to press your finger on the trigger, bullets tearing apart the closest walkers in front of you.

You end up dropping the weapon in your hands and get back to your trusty knife, putting down the few walkers left in the gym with Randall's help.

" **I** told you to get the fuck out, Randall, what the fuck?!" is the first thing you angrily spit out after putting the last walker down, pissed that he just risked his life for you.

" **Y** ou're welcome?" he snaps back, clearly irritated by your attitude, not understanding it.

" **I** told you I had it, Randall! I was taking care of it for fuck's sake!"

" **Y** ou didn't have shit and you damn well know it!"

" **Y** ou're so full of shit." you whisper, trying to stop this stupid argument, because you actually do know that you're the one in the wrong right now but your natural stubbornness and the adrenaline pumping through your veins won't let you admit to it.

You let out a sigh and look around the gym, looking down at the sea of dead bodies laying at your feet, blood covering the walls and the wooden floor. A sad, shaky breath coming from you when you spot a really young boy in this mess, your stomach tightening at the though of what might have happened to him. He couldn't have been any older than four.

" **Y** ou don't deserve this, [y/n]." Randall softly says behind you as he keeps a close eye on you, the reality of what just happened finally hitting him.

" **I** can't stop thinking about it, I just- I can't stop- I keep hearing these people cry and just- just him, telling me that it's okay, that he knows-" you stop and turn around to look at Randall, tears filling your eyes, one of your hands nervously holding on to your other arm's elbow, " **H** e tried to reassure me, he was- he was about t-to die and- and he- he just looked at me like I was the one on my knees- about to get my head bashed in with a baseball bat, I just- I didn't- I didn't ask for this, Randall." you pause and look at him, your eyes silently pleading for comfort but your lips are forcing a smile though he knows that you're hurting, it's crystal clear, " **I** 've never- I've never killed anyone who didn't mean me or the people I love any harm and- I dunno, I guess I don't want this to be who I am but I uh- I think it might be."

" **W** hat Negan's put you through doesn't define you, sweet pea. It just doesn't." he says before carefully taking a step towards you, " **I** don't know if- If it can make you feel any better but- He did it to us too, [y/n], just- not like that, I mean, not with Lucille."

" **I** don't- I don't think I can- I don't know."

" **Y** ou dying isn't gonna solve anything, sweet pea. I know that- that the thought of finally being at peace is tempting, I know that, but- I mean, after all you've been through, you're the sweetest thing there is, [y/n]. Anyone would have gotten drunk on anger and bitterness by now, maybe rightfully so, but you didn't. You don't even realize just how fucking strong that makes you."

" **I** wish I wasn't. It's exhausting, it makes me vulnerable, makes me weak, people like Negan know that and they prey and feed on it, Randall."

" **I** t's not how it works, [y/n]. You know better than that, c'mon."

" **I** f I wasn't so damn sensitive, I wouldn't cry all the time, if I wasn't so naive, I wouldn't end up getting hurt because I wouldn't give everyone a chance like I always do. I'm not meant for this world, Randall. I'm tired and it hurts and I- I just wanna go, I d-don't want to be here anymore. I can't." you confess, a sob slipping past your lips at the end of your sentence, exhaustion and emotional pain draining you off your energy and will to keep going, your depression not helping to make you see things more positively, at all.

" **I** don't-" he starts, struggling to put himself together, seeing you and hearing talk the way you are is breaking his heart and he can feel tears filling his eyes, " **I** fucking love you, sweet pea. I love you and it fucking hurts to see you like that. It fucking hurts that you were willing to let yourself be gutted today 'cause you deserve so much better than this bullshit and- Fuck, I wish I could give you the good shit you deserve but I can't 'cause ain't a damn thing in this world good enough for you, sweet pea. You deserve better than the best. None of what happened to you before and keeps happening now's fair, baby, I know that but- You know what makes you stronger than any human being left on this planet?" you frown and shake your head, looking at him with pure confusion on your bloody face, " **I** get angry thinking about what happened to you, I get fucking angry when I think about the fucked up man I grew up with, about my mom, my whole fucking childhood, but you? You didn't let it change you, it didn't break you because you didn't let it, [y/n], and that takes some serious strength. A strength that someone like me, someone like Negan, will never, ever, have." he says before finally walking up to you and framing your face with his bloody hands, " **B** ecause killing people willy nilly isn't strength, being able to sleep at night knowing that you took someone's life isn't strength, carrying a gun around isn't strength, acting like a real piece of shit and playing the wounded warrior isn't strength, baby. I did- If you knew about the shit I've done before, it'd tell you just how fucking weak I am. I'm no better than Negan and that ain't up for debate, I did just as terrible of things as he's still doing to this day. All you gotta know is that; being soft, loving and caring like you are, sweet pea? That's real fucking strength, that's real power because it means that, no matter how fucked up things have been for you, you didn't let it change you, you didn't let it define you and, ask anyone you know, you'll see that they'll tell you all about that one thing that changed them forever and made them who they are now. You're not one of them and, by them, I mean the rest of the whole fucking world." he adds with a small chuckle, making your shoulders shake lightly with a silent laugh.

" **I** love you." you whisper before hiding yourself away against his chest, letting your heart calm down a little from all the emotions and adrenaline it's just received.

" **I** love you too, sweet pea... Also, I've smudged the blood I had on my hands all over your face so, just remember that you love me, alright?" he says, actually making you giggle into his chest and he can't help but smile, his heart skipping a beat at the sound he loves oh so much, " **I** 'm so proud of you, [y/n]. I know how hard it is for you, I can't even begin to imagine but, I need you to know that you do belong here and that, no matter what bullshit your head is trying to serve you, you deserve the world and you're loved, princess, way more than you'd ever believe and I'm so, **so** proud of you and I'll keep repeating it, every single fucking day, just to make sure that it got through your skull... You're gonna want to punch me in the face every time you'll think of me but we'll deal with that in due time, yeah?" he jokes before kissing the top of your head, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back whilst the other gently massages the back of your neck

" **S** top making me laugh while I'm crying, s'not fair, I'm trying to be sad here." you whine with a small laugh, your head still resting against his chest, your body relaxing against him.

" **S** hit, my bad." he teases with a chuckle, tightening his grip on your neck and bringing your head even further against his chest, " **Y** ou'll be alright, sweet pea. You just hang in there, if you don't wanna to do for you then let's say that you'll do it for me in the meantime, yeah?"

" **F** or you, promise." you whisper before lifting your head up to look up at him, " **Y** ou won't leave me, right?" you ask, tears still blurring your vision.

" **O** f course not, [y/n]. M'not going anywhere, and neither are you." he reassuringly coos though you both know that either of you could die in the next minute with the world being the way it is. Still, you decided to take comfort in his world, to believe him even though it means risking one hell of a heartbreak some day. A day you're already dreading.

 

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**3:00 PM //**

  
You haven't eaten anything today, didn't take so much as a simple break, didn't even stop to drink some water, nothing. You just focused on the task at hands and, surely enough, you ended the day with a working truck that'll make Simon happy- Well, he'll be happy about your work if he knows what's good for him.

You slip out from underneath the vehicle, grease covering your hands and your face,. You feel sticky with sweat and motor oil, you're just gross all around but you don't mind because it means you've done something with your day, something productive. You wash the grease off your hands and splash some water on your face, cold water doing wonders for you after a day of hard work, before reaching next to the sink for something to dry your skin with.

" **H** eya, pumpkin, where the hell've ya been all day?" you hear Simon ask and you turn around still drying your hands into an old, clearly over-used handkerchief, a small smile on your face when you spot him leaning against the entrance of the big garage.

" **I** 've been fixing the truck you've been whining about for days." You answer as you walk towards him, stopping to lean against the wall next to him only for him to look at you with a mix of both what seems to be pride and cockiness in his eyes.

" **O** h, ya did?" he asks with a smirk, " **H** ow'd that pend out for ya, pumpkin?" he keeps on teasingly mocking you but his smirk drops when you throw the keys of the truck at him with a smile on your face.

" **W** hat don't you just see for yourself, Simon? Or does everyone in this place needs someone holding their hand at all times?" now it's your turn to mock him.

You walk out of the garage at the same time as Simon closes the door of the driver's side of the truck, a giddy smile appearing on your lips when you hear the vehicle starts within seconds.

" **T** hatta girl!" Simon yells over the loud sound of the truck's ignited engine loudly echoing in the closed garage, making you giggle and wave at him to silently tell him that he's welcome after he's just said thank you with his own words.

As you're heading back to the inside of the compound, you can't help but stop to look at the walkers guarding the gates as they hungrily tear bits of flesh away from what terrifyingly look like human bones.

_are they- are they feeding those things with human beings? what in the holy hell?_

" **T** his is so sick." you whisper, your eyes never leaving the re-animated corpses, some of them getting irritated and agitated by your proximity, by the fact that they can't get to you no matter how hard they want and try to.

" **B** elieve me, baby, it gets a shit load sicker when daddy's really mad and decides to let 'em have their way with whoever pissed him off." Negan says right behind you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, making you both shudder and jump out of your boots.

_can you fucking not? how 'bout fucking no??_

" **N** egan! What the hell?! You scared me, don't do that! Fuck's sake." you protest, turning around with a hand on the hollow of your throat, still shaking from the scare the asshole just gave you.

" **H** ey now, kitten." he starts with a chuckle, " **W** atch your fuckin' mouth when you talk to me, yeah?"

_ooooh, you can soooo go fuck yourself... fucking asshole..._

" **F** unny coming from you, don'tcha think?" you ask with a quirked up eyebrow, surprisingly talking back to him and it kind of feels really fucking good to finally be able to properly talk to him for once, not to stutter on every single words you're trying to form.

" **D** amn, princess, someone's all wind up today, uh? S'okay, daddy's fucking angry too." his voice suddenly dropped an octave lower and you feel your bravado melt straight off of you.

_oh lord no._

" **W** h-why?" you ask, your shyness laughing at you for actually believing that it'll let you be for once in your life.

_so much for no st-stu-stuttering, uh? jesus fucking christ..._

" **M** aybe, just maybe, because you fucking sneaked out of my room in the middle of the fucking night and left me to wake up alone like a fucking idiot. Again."

" **I** couldn't- I cou-couldn't stay, Negan."

" **W** hy the fuck not, baby?" he asks, his voice getting lower as he gets a grip on your waist and pushes you flush against him, his lips grazing yours and you want to cry at how needy you are for him to just kiss the air out of your lungs right now.

" **I** -I don't wa-want to do this, Negan." you quietly say, your head dropping and you focus your attention on yours and Negan's boots.

" **O** h, I know, princess, and it's fuckin' fine by me. I know you're not ready for me yet, kitten." he says with a smirk, believing that you're referring not being ready to have sex with him yet.

" **N** -no, I don't- S'not what I meant. I don't- I don't want to do th-this," a shaky finger pointing back and forth between the two of you, "anymore, m'sick of it. I d-don't want this. I don't want us, Negan."

There's a small silence between the two of you but it's quickly broken by Negan's laugh as you see him leaning back, Lucille hanging loosely in his right, gloved hand and you just want to run off and hide under your bed until the floor decides to have mercy on you and swallow you whole.

" **Y** ou're gonna have to develop your thought there, honey."

" **R** emember what I told you in the very beginning? That I didn't want you to provide for me, that I wanted to actually **work** and that I wanted you to consider me as one of your workers? Well I want that, you promised but I never got to have that life here, Negan." your voice doesn't betray you this time but your body language does, you nervously pulling on your fingers is a dead giveaway that you're as nervous as they come.

" **W** ell then, how 'bout we try something here, huh, kitten?" he starts, getting a shy nod from you, silently telling him that he's got your attention, " **L** et's see if you can last a whole fuckin' week without me, [y/n]." he whispers almost bitterly into your ear, his jaw clenching violently, " **B** ut, lemme make this real fuckin' clear, baby," he pauses just to look in your eyes, "if you come crawling back, if I catch you being your needy lil' self when I'm around? We'll have a real long fuckin' talk about where and to whom you fucking belong to. Conversation that might or might not end with a fuckin' spankin' that'll leave your bubbly lil' ass sore for fucking months and there'll be no kissin' it better, we clear?" you're about to answer him but he cuts you off, " **A** nd Lord fuckin' helps me if I catch you with someone else or if I see an asshole breathin' too fuckin' close to ya, kitten, 'cause said asshole will lose his fuckin' head. Lemme be real fuckin' clear about one thing there, baby girl; you're mine, all fucking mine and if ya think that I'll have second fucking thoughts about being real fucking blunt and show every single fuckin' parasites livin' under my fuckin' roof that you're off limits, you're way fuckin' off." he spits, not giving you the time to completely process his words before he's walking away, swinging Lucille on his shoulder and contently whistling like he wasn't spitting filth at you not seconds ago, leaving you with shaky legs and hands as well as an embarrassing amount of heat pooling between your legs, making your cheeks burn though you don't even know what that feeling is let alone what it means.

_well... this is... not very nice._

  
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**6:00 PM //**

You're sitting in your bed, appreciating the calming silence filling your room, your hair soaked from the shower you've got out of minutes ago, the baby pink silk pajama set Negan brought you when you'd first arrived at the Sanctuary slightly sticking to your still damp skin, your feet and calves covered in your favorite white high-knee socks, your legs pushed against your chest as you keep on going over Randall's drawing of you, the one he's made of Connor and his niece is in the safety of your locked chest, locked away with your personal belongings and your bow though your knife is still on you, tugged away between the soft waistband of your silk short and your skin. You'd feel naked without your knife, you're too used to having it on you.

You know that most workers are having drinks together at this hour, trying to take the pressure of the day off but you didn't feel like joining in. Apart from Faith, Dwight, Laihla and, by now, Simon, you don't care for anyone in this place, you actually feel the urge to punch everyone in the face now that you've lost Connor and Randall, it hurts too much.

The idea of laughing, of enjoying a drink and making chit-chat just doesn't sit right with you, not when two of the people you've actually had come to consider family won't be here, laughing along, making you forget about your shitty day with terrible puns.

The only highlight of your day was to spot Laihla laughing with her husband. When she saw you, she ran to you, apologized for something she wasn't even responsible for and then you two caught up which is when she's told you that Negan's let her go back with her husband but she lied and told you that she didn't know why, remembering that Negan told her that no one knew about his "project" other than Simon, Dwight, Faith and herself.

Just thinking about it makes you sigh in frustration. You can't wrap your head around the fact that he's let the good one go and kept the... _others_ with him.

" **M** en should come with a freaking instructional manual, s'not fair." you grumpily whisper to yourself, almost falling off your bed when a knock on your door makes you jump, " **G** ood God! Y-yes?"

The door creaks open and Simon's head pops into the room, making you giggle, the sound making him smile, " **H** eya, pumpkin." he starts before pushing the door open and stepping in, " **S** ay, the commissary's open so, if ya need anythin', y'better go and check shit out 'cause the good stuff goes real quick."

_oh, right, the "commissary" aka the things negan dimes aren't good enough for him so he lets the peasants have 'em in exchange for "points".... wowers..._

" **M** 'good, thanks though." you say, folding the drawing in your hands to keep it out of Simon's sight, your hands shaking.

" **D** 'ya eat anythin' today, pumpkin?" he asks with a frown, " **Y** ou're shakin' like a fucking fish out of the water."

_wait- what?_

" **P** retty sure that's not a thing." you say with a small smile, making him chuckle.

" **I** t's a "thing" if I want it to be, pumpkin."

" **O** h, right, the power of a man's ego, almost forgot. My bad." you sass with a roll of your eyes, only making him laugh some more.

" **A** lright, alright. Damn, girl." he chuckles, his hands up in false surrender, " **G** o to the kitchen, tell Mike I sent ya and get ya something t'eat, yeah?"

" **I** -I'm good, Simon, really. M'not hungry anyways." you try and protest but your body betrays you, your stomach growling loudly at the mention of food, making you blush furiously but Simon doesn't look too amused though he gives you a friendly smirk.

" **S** 'in your head, pumpkin. You're shakin' and your stomach's growling so, you better go and grab something to eat. Get whatever you want, s'on me, pumpkin, don't worry about it." he says before stepping out of the room, leaving your door open and you almost yell at him to close the damn thing but you realize that he kept it open because he wants you to get out of your room so, with a long and heavy sigh, you push yourself off your bed and exit your room, closing the door behind you with a huff.

Walking through the cold looking corridors, you can't help but think that the look of this whole place suits Negan perfectly. It's cold and it just looks hostile when you're not in the good parts of it, otherwise, it has some really pretty rooms, though they all happen to belong to the man himself.

You get to the cafeteria and, though there's a bunch of eyes following your every move, you head straight for the kitchen in the back, letting a sigh a relief out when you get there. Thing is, when you do get here, Simon is also in the room, having a conversation with the cook.

"[...] **S** o, yeah, she should be coming through pretty damn soon, tell me if she didn't come around before nine, alright?"

" **U** m, I mean, sure, but-" Mike, the cook, mumbles as he looks at you, unsure if he should alert Simon of your presence or not but, judging by the amused smile on your face, he takes it as a no.

" **B** ut what? You got a problem with-"

" **P** retty sure he got it, Simon. You can put your fangs away, old man." you say with an amused smile on your lips, making the man turn around with a smirk on his.

" **W** ell, I'll be damned. I thought I was gonna have to drag you here myself, pumpkin." he steps towards you to exit the room but stops right by you to lean against you and whispers, " **Y** 'eat somethin' then you can got to bed if ya want, alright?" you only nod at his words, waiting for him to move on but he doesn't move an inch, " **D** on't worry, I'll let Negan know you've been good, pumpkin." he steps away from you and shouts a " **S** leep tight, pumpkin." whilst walking off into the cafeteria, leaving you standing there, awkwardly looking at the cook who seems to be pretty amused by the whole thing.

" **H** -Hi, I uh- I'm [y/n]."

" **H** ey there, the name's Mike." he introduces himself, saluting you with his index and middle finger, " **F** eel free to go see what you'd like to eat, there's a bunch of shit in the pantry or you have what I've made."

" **W** -what did y-you make?" you shyly ask, pulling nervously at your fingers.

For some reason, now that you're outside of the comfort and privacy of your own room, you've become hyper-aware of the fact that you're not wearing any underwear beneath your pajamas and it makes you uncomfortable, " **S** ome deer meat, a sauce and some pasta, you want some?"

You get closer to him and to the counter the food is resting on and the smell alone makes you stomach growl in hunger, making both Mike and you laugh quietly, " **T** hat's the most appetizing thing I've seen in a good long while, Mike. Smells amazing too and I'm usually disgusted by most smells when it comes to food."

" **N** ot gonna lie, it would have hurt my feelings if you threw up all over me because of the smell of my food." he teases, making you laugh once again, " **S** 'nice to finally meet ya, though."  
finally? what's that supposed to mean?

" **W** h- I- What d'you mean?"

" **O** h, well, y'know, it's just that-" he clumsily starts, scratching the back of his neck, afraid that he might have been rude without realizing it, " **E** veryone keeps talking about you, I hear your name all the time but, like, I never got to meet you so, it's really cool to, s'all. Didn't mean to be rude or anythin'."

" **N** -no, no, you didn't upset me o-or anything, I was just curious."

A few minutes fly by, the cafeteria fills up a little then it's completely empty the next hour, as if everyone in this damned place is programmed to start eating at a specific hour and finish at an other, it creeps you out. Though, something caught your eyes when you were looking at all the people in the room, eating their meal.

" **I** didn't know Negan's... Y'know, whatever you call these women, ate at the cafeteria. I thought they stayed in their tower made out of gold and nail polish." you say, bitterness shinning through but it makes Mike laugh and you can help the small smile on your lips.

" **S** 'cause they don't. I've heard Negan got bored of 'em or some shit, I don't fuckin' know and I don't really care to be honest, this whole thing is fucked up."

" **Y** ou don't say." you whisper, sadness weighting heavy on your words and Mike doesn't miss it, not at all.

" **T** hey've been eating out here like the rest of us for, like, two or three days, morning, day and night. Maybe, just maybe, Negan's tired of being a manwhore, y'know?" you don't want to laugh but you can't help it, maybe it's because you needed to talk to someone who's just as disgusted by this whole thing as you are or maybe it's just because you genuinely enjoy talking to this man. It doesn't matter, it just feels right to laugh at the situation for once.

 

**10:00** **PM** **//**

You and Mike finally finish your meal after spending more time talking and laughing at each other's misfortunes and some really stupid puns than you've spent actually eating but, in the end, you've successfully finished your entire plate which truly is a really huge victory for you. It's been so long since you've had an entire meal and actually enjoyed eating; you feel good.

" **A** lright, I think we need to call it a night, hon." Mike says just as he gets done doing the dishes which he refused to let you help him with.

" **Y** -yeah, m'super tired." a squeaky yawn follows your words, making Mike chuckle.

He's about to follow you out of the room but he stops in front of a tray on one of the counters before looking at you, " **T** hat Negan's." he says, pointing at the tray, a covered plate is on it as well as an empty glass, a fork and a really sharp knife, " **O** ne of his toys usually comes down to pick it up and bring it up to him but, well, for three days straight now, he's been coming down to get it himself."

" **W** h-why are you te-telling me that?"

" **Y** ou got them sparks in your eyes when you talk about the man, hon. I told ya, I heard about you and, apparently, you're the little angel that came down on Earth to kick some sense into Negan's thick skull or, at least, that's what people around here keep saying. I've seen him change ever since you came around, still think he's an asshole though and he knows but he doesn't fucking care what we think of him or what people out there think of him. One thing I do know though is that; you're the gal that he keeps bringing chocolate and sweets for every time he goes out there and then threatens to cut my balls off if one of 'em goes missing."

_he does?_

There's a small silence between the two of you and you don't dare to break it as you walk back into the room, grab the tray, look up at Mike with look that basically spells " _Please don't judge me, I'm weak_." and silently head to Negan's quarters as Mike turns the kitchen's lights off and closes the room, a sly smile on his face. He's happy to have finally meet you and to actually get along with you but, above all, he's happy that he got you to pay Negan a visit, he feels giddy that he got to play Cupid for a bit.

He starts to head back to his own bedroom when his radio starts to act up, the smile on his face growing bigger when he hears the voice of his boyfriend coming through, " **D** on't ignore me, Mike. I'm needy and I crave attention! Mike!" his boyfriend playfully screams on the other side of the channel.

" **G** ood God, do ya ever shut up?" he answers with a laugh.

" **N** ah, and even when I'll die, I'll put a tape of me screaming my lungs out on repeat inside my coffin."

" **I** love you, you stupid fucking idiot."

" **I** love you too, you bitch."

" **A** ren't you supposed to be working the night shift, Tyler?"

" **I** am- Well, I'm trying at least... I'm horny."

" **O** kay, I'm gonna stop talking to you right now."

" **Y** ou wouldn't dare."

" **G** et back to work, I love you."

" **I** love you too but don't you fucking dare-"

" **B** yyyyye, goodnight baby, I love you."

" **I** shall destroy you for this act of rebellion, peasant!" is the last thing Mike hears his boyfriend say through the radio before he turns it off and strips out of his clothes to finally get to bed, an heavy but happy sigh getting past his lips. This place might be hellish and crappy but, at least, he's not going through it all alone.

 

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You've been standing in front of Negan's bedroom door for at least twenty minutes now, part of you wants to run away, another wants to burst through the door and throw the plate at his face and the other just really wants to bring him his meal and make sure that he eats something, this specific part of your mind is the strongest one out of all but you're scared.

You're afraid to come off as needy, that he might not appreciate you disturbing him, that he might get offended by the fact that you've tried to take care of him and, yes, this all sounds very stupid but, when it comes to Negan, you're never sure how he'll react to anything, it's fucking with your head.

The choice is made for you when the door in front of you opens, making you jump, and you almost let the tray full of food slip from your hands but you clumsily keep it from falling, earning a laugh from Negan who's standing tall right in front of you but, right now, you're just starring down at his boots.

" **W** ell, hey there, kitten."

_his voice is so scruffy, good fucking lord, have mercy._

" **I** uh- I- I didn't-"

" **B** aby, look at me." he orders and your head snaps up, your breath getting caught in your throat when you spot glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

_jesus fucking christ on a fucking motorbike._

He looks good, so good. This man is killing you and it frustrates you that there's no way for your mind to make him ugly to you, you're even attracted to his personality no matter how much you hate yourself for it, " **I** just- I just thought that y-you might w-want to eat s-something and-and I uh-"

" **Y** eah? That's real fuckin' nice of ya, kitten." he takes the tray away from your shaky hands, put it on his desk and comes back to you since you haven't moved an inch, your nerves freezing you on the spot, " **W** anna come in, have a lil' chat?"

_yes! no! wait- definitely no... maaaaaybe? oh my god! just fucking run [y/n]! run and never look back!_

" **I** uh- Th-thanks b-but I- I ha-have t-to go-"

 **"G** o where, kitten? I didn't put you on the night shift as far as I know, did I?" he asks with smirk, enjoying watching you fall apart all because you're hardheaded and you don't want to lose the little bet you two only started this afternoon.

" **T** -to sl-sleep, m'tired."

" **A** lright then, sweet thing. You go on, I'll come say goodnight when I'll be done eating."

" **O** -oh but- It's n-not ne-necessary, re-really, I-"

" **C** 'mon, get your sweet lil' ass to bed, kitten, be right there." he insists, making it clear that he **will** come and say goodnight if he damn well pleases, before kissing your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin for a while and you immediately walk away the second his lips leave your skin, a smirk still plastered on his lips as he closes the door of his office.

You rush to your room, your cheeks burning, your entire body feeling way too hot for comfort and you eventually get to your room, feeling like crying in pure frustration. Why did you ever think this was a good idea?

He's not playing fair, his grip on you is too strong and he takes advantage of it, you hate it and you love it all the same. Thing is; your grip on him is just as strong, you just don't know that.

With a sigh, you let your silky short fall down your legs and pool at your feet, stepping out of them to go and fetch a pair of undies to put on for the night. Once you've put a simple pair of white cotton panties on, you crawl underneath your blankets, letting your head rest against your plushy pillow, your body tensed as you wait for Negan to burst through the door.

After a few minutes in bed, you start to feel your chest burning up and you realize that, because you're laying on your stomach and the camisole you're wearing is made of ridiculously soft silk, your over-sensitive nipples hardened to the point where it hurts and its uncomfortable because of the barbell going through each of them.

You curse out loud and sit down on your mattress to break the contact but you freak out when the door of your room opens and calm down when Faith's head pops out from behind said door, a gentle smile on her face, " **H** ey, sweetheart, did I wake ya?"

" **N** -no, no at all." a smile starts to form on your lips yet a tear rolls down your face as guilt gets to you. You feel bad for being so distant from her these past couple of days, she's always been there for you when she didn't have any reason to be. You really like her, she matters to you just like you matter to her.

" **H** ey, no, why are you crying, pretty girl?" she asks, stepping inside your room and closing the door with her foot before sitting next to you on your bed's mattress, "[ **Y** /n], princess, what's wrong?"

" **I** 'm sorry, Faith. I- I know I've b-been- I d-didn't even ta-take the time to ch-check on you after Negan c-caught up to me and b-brought me back here and I-"

" **H** ey now, stop that." she gently grabs your face, each of her hands on each of your cheeks, her thumbs catching and wiping your tears away, " **Y** ou were out there for two months, you got hurt, I couldn't reach you because Negan took my walkie, I was worried sick but- when I've heard you were back, I felt like shit and I got scared of how sad you would be, I didn't want to make it harder for you so I didn't say anything but- I should have and then- Then Randall-" she stops to look at you, making sure that it's safe for her to go there but she clearly sees that it's not, at all, " **I** 'm so sorry, princess." she brings you to her, your head resting on her shoulder, her hands tightly holding you as she tries to comfort you, " **O** h, sweetheart, I'm so, **so** sorry. I know he meant a lot to you just like you meant a whole lot to him. I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm so fucking sorry that you've lost him, that you've had to be the one putting him down, that you've had to see him like that- Fuck, you're so damn young, you shouldn't have to bury the people you love, princess, it just ain't right." she feels your grip on her tightening at her words, clearly showing your distress and she can feel her stomach turning into a huge knot as she listens to you cry into the crook of her neck.

" **I** t feels like th-that's all I ever d-do. It hurts."

" **I** know, baby, I can't even begin to imagine how hard things are for you. You're so damn strong, princess. I'm so proud of you, so, **so** proud of you but you need to give yourself a break, [y/n]. You're gonna collapse if you keep going at this rate."

" **I** d-don't kn-know what t-to do. Faith- I'm sc-scared." at this point, you're holding on to her like a scared child would, you're shaking, you're exhausted but it feels good to let yourself go, you feel safe with Faith.

After a few minutes of hushing and comforting you, Faith slowly calms you down and makes you feel way better, she takes her time to talk to you and she even makes you laugh. Surely enough, a full hour passes without either of you realizing, too caught up in the conversation, but it's all cut short when the door of your room opens and Negan enters the room, a smirk already drawn on his lips.

" **L** adies, I hate to interrupt 'cause it's fuckin' rude and I'm a real gentleman but lights out's at eleven so, Faith, get your ass back to your quarters and lemme have some time with my girl."

Faith kisses your cheek, wishes you goodnight and gets past Negan, wishing him " **G** ood night, asshole." before getting back to hers, Dwight and Simon's quarters.

Negan closes the door of your room and you suddenly feel very small and vulnerable again, you're not scared but the vibe is different all of the sudden and you're unsure of how you feel about that.

" **L** ook at ya, you're fuckin' exhausted, aren't ya, kitten?" he remarks, walking towards you and letting his hands grip your waist to lift you up. 

You don't overthink it, hell, you don't think at all, and just reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and he immediately lets his hands go beneath your butt to secure you, your legs wrapping themselves up around his waist and you let out a sigh of contentment as you let your head rest on his shoulder, your breath hitting his neck.

" **Y** -yeah, I am." you whisper and then there's small silence but, for once, you're the one to break it, " **Y** -You know, I ate a w-whole meal, tonight."

" **T** hatta fucking girl." he says with way more enthusiasm than you though he'd show and you start to wonder if he's making fun of you, " **S** imon told me you've been really good, that you actually listened to him and did as you were told but, damn, that's real fucking good, angel." he leans his head down to kiss your forehead, " **M** 'real proud of ya, [y/n]."

You freeze for a second but not because of fear, just because you're surprised. He never really calls you by your own name, he always uses pet names, he only uses your name when he's really mad or when he scolded or teasing you.

Hearing him use it so gently and calmly made your heart skip a beat, you love it. You love the pet names he gives you but, in that specific moment, it just felt like something you needed from him, " **Y** -you are?"

" **H** ell yes, I am, kitten." he kisses your temple, keeping his lips against your skin, whispering against it," **M** y good lil' girl." he praises and you feel your throat and mouth go completely dry at his words, your lower-belly getting set on fire and you have to push your head further against his shoulder to hide your burning cheeks, not understanding why his words are affecting you the way they are.

Though he doesn't say a word, Negan knows exactly what's happening to you, he's noticed the way you react to his praises within your very first month together.

" **Y** -you've told me what w-would happen if I can't last a whole week working for you, but- I mean, what if I do? What do I get?" you decide to change the subject, trying to push aside what's happening to your body at the moment.

" **W** ell, what do you want, kitten?" he asks you and you take a minute to think but you quickly come up with something.

" **I** f I can last the w-whole week without you, I get to go see my friends m-more than twice a week. Whenever I want, for however long I want, alone."

" **Y** ou fuckin' suck, baby, y'know that?" he sighs and leans back slightly to look at you and you do the same, relaying on his hands to keep you from falling, " **I** 'll think about it, kitten." he breathes out before kissing the tip of your nose and you let your head drop down afterwards, upset about his answer. After all, he didn't ask you how you felt about **his**  terms, why can't he just give you this one thing? " **Y** ou're a real fuckin' piece of work, y'know that?" he says, taking in your disappointment and sly anger towards him.

" **Y** ou're one to talk." you whisper, your eyes getting watery.

" **P** rincess." you hum, letting him know that he has your attention but he's not happy with that reaction so he decides to do it his way and brings one of his hands beneath your jaw to make you look up at him, " **D** id what happened with Sherry last night hurt you?" he asks though he already knows the answer, it's in your eyes, in the way you behave.

_yes? duh??_

" **N** -No." you say really quietly, not really wanting to talk about the fact that he's kissed someone else right in front of you. Because, even though, as he said, it wasn't the kind of kiss he shares with you, far from it, it still hurts really bad. More than you care to admit.

" **Y** ou're a terrible fuckin' liar, baby girl."

_heard that before._

" **C** -Can I go t-to bed now, pl-please?" you plead, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to get some well deserved rest and forget about how shitty the last two days have been for you. Just a few hours of peace and quiet, that's all you're asking for.

He doesn't say anything, just lets out a cocky chuckle before dropping you on your mattress, bringing your blankets up to cover you and, right after your head settles against your pillow, he crouches down, his face directly in front of yours.

" **T** hey're easy, real fuckin' easy, baby." he starts, your eyes shifting to avoid making eye contact with him, " **T** hat shit makes me feel powerful- Well, it used to. Those women don't do shit for me ever since you came into my life and decided to shut that shit down. I fuckin' love that you can't fuckin' stand me, kitten. Truth be told, I gotta love that shit as much as I fuckin' hate it." his right hand comes up to your face and you almost flinch but you relax when it comes to rest on your cheek, " **I** was pissed 'cause I was fuckin' worried about you not bein' back. 'Cause I've seen the goddamn look in your eyes when you left with Randall, how fuckin' numb you looked, that shit kicked me straight in the balls, baby. I felt fuckin' powerless and I hate that shit 'cause I ain't never felt that way before you came into my life. Hell, you know me, kitten, I get fuckin' wasted on power, that shit's stronger than any alcohol. So, yeah, with you bein' gone and not a damn thing I could've done about it 'cause I knew damn well that you would've fucked me up if I came after you, and having someone like Sherry, someone that never bothers to fucking speak up for herself because people do it for her and she doesn't see a fucking problem with that, spittin' the words she did at me, fuckin' talking about you like I'm fucking stupid. Y'really think that her telling me that her and lil' friends decided to gang up on ya to get a reaction out of me fucking appeased me? Nah, I was seeing red, princess, I needed some type of control back on the situation, m'sorry that it got you hurt though." all he sees in your eyes, on your face, is exhaustion. Exhaustion and sadness, pure sadness.

You're hurt and he caused it, **again** , " **S** leep tight, kitten. I'll see ya tomorrow, give you somethin' to do." he's about to get up and walk out of the room but you get your hand out from underneath your blankets and clumsily grab his shirt, keeping him from straightening back up.

" **T** h-thank you- For telling me." you whisper really quietly though you mean it. Him being open and honest with you about a specific situation, especially when said situation got you emotionally hurt, is just another thing to add up to the list of things that keep on bringing you right back to him.

" **I** think we both needed to let some weight off of our damn shoulders, kitten. Y'know I really fucking care about you, princess, y'know that. I know you do so stop questionin' that shit." you see him eye your lips when he finishes his sentence so you carefully move around on your bed to get closer to the edge, reaching for him to give him a kiss, the gesture way more innocent than what he's used to but it doesn't feel wrong at all, not coming from you, he'd never get that intimate with another woman, ever.

To him, fucking is far from being the most intimate you can be with someone else. Being gentle, taking his time and actually putting his feelings into his kisses, that's real intimacy to Negan which is why you're the only and the first woman he ever shares that with, he doesn't want this kind of moment with anybody else.

  
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**7:00 AM //**

  
You've been awake for two hours now, took your shower when the rest of the compound was deeply asleep, skipped breakfast and immediately got to work, finding little things do to around the place, things to fix or clean, basically whatever you could get your hands on and would keep your mind occupied.

Everyone's awake now which means that the peaceful silence you've been working in for practically two hours is completely gone and has been replaced with mean barks from Negan's men and insults being thrown around all willy-nilly.

You can get past the really irritating and unnecessary yelling, you're calm and patient enough for that but, if there's one thing you **cannot** stand it's men belittling you and telling you what you should or should not be doing simply because, to them, you're nothing but a fragile little creature.

You've been chopping logs of woods for a good long while now with no problem whatsoever, it actually relaxes you because it gives you some kind of outlet for your anger, yet it doesn't stop one of Negan's men from walking up to you to express his opinion on the whole thing, as if you've asked for it which, as far as you're concerned, **you fucking didn't**.

" **H** ey now, you shouldn't be doin' none of that, sweet pie." the man says, coming up to you to actually take the axe you're holding from you, " **T** here's some clothes to wash and iron if you want but you don't do **that**. It's a man's job, sweet cheeks."

_who in the holy fucking fuck... he did not... oOOooh no you do not._

There's no way around it, it's not anger, it's not because you're upset nor because you're tired, oh no, you're about to tear this moron a new one and it's all because you can't stand his attitude and you're not about to repress what you're feeling right now, not this time.

" **A** lright," you start, wiping away the sweat off your forehead with your forearm, "listen here, shithead. While you were drooling like a little bitch into your pillow, I was already working my ass off, doing something we both know you're in no shape to do." you look at the man's body, your eyes cold and holding disgust, " **A** man's job, uh? How about this; **you** go ahead and clean the stains you've left in your fucking underwear? How about it, uh?"

" **D** 'you know who you're talking to? You better watch your damn mouth, sweet cheeks. 'Cause I ain't-" he gets cut off when the look in your eyes literally tells him to shut the fuck up and even makes him take a step back. Even you'd be afraid of yourself if you could see what's shinning through your eyes right at this instant.

" **O** r what? You're gonna hit me? Go ahead, try me." you challenge through gritted teeth.

Though you did expect it, the man takes you for your words and raises a hand to try and slap you, a gasp leaving his mouth when you stop his hand dead on its way down to your face only to then completely twist his arm around, a loud cracking sound echoing in the garden, a noise so clear and loud that even the birds singing can't cover it up and it's quickly followed by the man letting a loud cry of pain out.

You hit the back of his knee, putting him down, your hands closing in tight fists as you sit on top of him, not able to control yourself anymore. Your anger finally finds a way out of your system and you can't stop bringing your clenched fists down on the man's face, busting your knuckles wide open in the process but you don't mind taking damages if it means he does as well.

Your ears are ringing because of the adrenaline rush you're getting a huge high on but you can still hear the door leading to the garden getting slammed open and then Simon's voice yelling something but you have no fucking clue what he's saying and, in all honesty, you don't care, **at all**.

"[ **Y** /n]! I said enough!" Simon's voice finally gets through to you but it doesn't do much to calm you down.

Eventually, Simon ends up lifting you off the man who's now a bloody mess, his face swollen to the point where his eyes can barely open but he's still breathing, he's still moving.

" **L** et go of me!" you protest, kicking your legs around to try and wiggle your way out of Simon's grip but he's firmly holding you against him, your back against his chest, " **Y** ou pull that shit on me again and I swear to God I'll shove your head so far up your ass, you won't even know what the fuck just happened to you!" you yell at the man laying on the ground as he's crawling away from you, not taking any chances even though Simon is holding you.

"[ **Y** /n], for fuck's sake, pumpkin, that's enough." he scolds as he carries you away from the garden, literally dragging you somewhere else, all while you keep struggling in his arms, frustrated, angry and upset, " **C** alm down, pumpkin. It's okay, s'over."

You try to calm yourself, to listen to Simon and to take comfort in his words but, when you realize that he's taking you to Negan's quarters, all signs of potential relaxation completely vanish, " **S** imon- P-please, don't."

" **M** 'sorry, pumpkin, but I gotta report what happened and we gotta take care of your wounds so-"

" **Y** ou ca-can't do that! Put me down! Simon!" you actually try to keep Simon from walking into Negan's headquarters by pushing against the door frame with your feet but he just has to get a grip on your knees for your legs to completely give in and, the first thing you're greeted with as you enter the other part of the compound is a gravelly chuckle.

_not sure if we hate or love that laugh... kinda hate everything and everyone at the moment but... yeah._

" **R** eally, kitten?" Negan spits out, still chuckling away, " **T** he day's not even fuckin' started yet."

" **S** he uh- She got into a fight with one of your men and-" Simon starts, trying his hardest to keep your extremely wiggly self in his hold without hurting you.

" **Y** ou got a name?" Negan asks, a seriousness you've never really seen him have before defining his features.

" **S** kinny Joe."

" **A** lright, thanks Simon. You can go back to your shit, I'll take care of the little one here." he says, moving his attention back to you, a smirk on his lips as Simon carefully puts you down and leaves the quarters, the sound of the heavy door closing behind you almost making you jump.

You're not in Negan's apartment, you're just in a hall, standing there, blood pouring out of your hands and forming puddles on the squeeky clean floor.

Your skin is shinning with sweat and covered in small splatters of blood here and there, your hands shaking from the pain and the adrenaline that's still running through your veins. You don't like being violent, you really, **genuinely** , hate it but this guy just set you off.

Between the anger you carry because of Randall's death, your mind-fuck of a relationship with Negan, your loneliness eating you alive and your depression not letting you catch a damn break, that altercation was just too much for you and you snapped.

" **W** hat in the holy fucking hell happened? Y'mind tellin' me?" Negan asks with a frown, his voice sharp but not cold.

" **O** ne of your men- One of your men was being a grade A asshole and I snapped." you simply say, the adrenaline pushing your shyness away for the time being.

" **D** id he touch ya, baby?" he asks, his voice lower, and you look up at him, slightly nodding your head no, " **S** o what did the poor sonuvabitch do, princess?" his eyes examine your bloody hands and your busted knuckles.

" **I** just- I was working, alright? I was working and he comes up to me, bursts my damn bubble and then shits out some "I am man and you are woman, man do this and woman do that" type of stupid shit and I-" you stop when you hear Negan laughing at your little reenactment as you put your heart into making the dude sound like a caveman and you find yourself smiling a little at the sound of his laughter, " **S** 'not funny, you asshole."

" **G** od damn, yes it fucking is, baby girl." he settles down and steps closer to you, taking your bleeding hands into his once he reaches you, " **L** ook at you, shoving your lady balls down my men's throat."

_thanks for the picture... how delicate._

" **H** ey, I gave him a warning, alright? I told him to try me if he wanted-"

" **H** e better not-"

" **H** e tried and, well- That's kinda where it went downhill... for both of us." you let out a sad sigh, Negan's eyes going from your injured hands to your glossy eyes, " **I** didn't- I don't like when I get l-like that, it scares me."

" **I** already told ya to leave that shit to me, angel. You got a problem? You come to me and I'll take care of that shit." he looks back down at your hands and let one of his thumbs glide over the ripped skin on your knuckles, making you wince in pain, your hand twitching as your body tries to take it away from Negan but he keeps a firm grip on it, " **F** uck's sake, kitten." he breathes out, looking at his now bloody thumb, your blood staining the pad of the digit, " **F** uckin' hell, I can't leave you alone for one fuckin' day, can I?" there's a dry chuckle following that sentence but you're not sure how to answer that question if you're being honest, you don't even know if you're supposed to say something back to that.

" **I** 'm not the p-problem, Negan, we both know that."

" **Y** eah, I know, [y/n], which is why I fuckin' hate the idea of you being around those pricks twenty-four-seven."

" **I** think you don't want me around those guys because you're afraid of the idea of me being independent. Because you know I don't need you to survive, Negan."

" **W** ell shit, you're on a fucking roll today, aren't ya? You just hurt my goddamn feelings, angel face."

" **B** oo-ooh, poor privileged man you are, uh? So much on your shoulders, I can't even imagine." you sass, getting a smirk and a defiant look from him.

" **W** atch your mouth, princess."

" **O** r what?" you take a step closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours as you lean in closer to his face, your breath hitting his lips, " **Y** ou're gonna hit me?" you challenge, repeating the same words you've said to that so called "Skinny Joe" dude.

There's an heavy silence in the hall, the tension between the two of you so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

The grip you have on this man is insane, he can feel his pants getting way too tight for comfort as he waits to see if you'll dare to make the first move or if you'll back down but he sure as shit didn't expect you to laugh right to his face, your lips so close to him he can feel them, shift to kiss his cheek and walk off, the sound of the door closing is what brings him back down to reality.

He lets out a small chuckle of both frustration and surprise. He's not used to see you behave like that and he can't help but get a huge kick out of the fact that you've literally saw nothing wrong nor sexual about the way you've just spoke to him and behaved but that's all he sees, that all he feels; never ending sexual tension.

 

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**11:15 AM //**

  
After hours of working your ass off, Simon finally got you to take a break and, though you hate to admit it, he was right; you did need a break.

You're standing in front of the wall covered in polaroids of Negan's victims in the main area of the compound, there's not a whole left of their head, it's just blood and crushed bones. There's a clear hole where the picture of the man Negan forced you to kill months ago should be but the picture is still in your room, in your bedside drawer, you don't want what you've done to be admired, glorified nor used to terrorize people no matter how much you despite them all.

Behind you, the whole compound goes quiet and you turn around only to spot Negan walking past the people kneeling in front of him, Lucille on his shoulder, a smirk appearing on his lips when he spots you.

_don't you fucking dare._

He walks towards you, stopping only a few centimeters from you and, the first thing you do is shake your head left and right at him, silently telling him that you will **not** kneel in front of him.

" **O** ver my dead body." you bitterly spit out, clearly understanding what he wants from you.

Thing is, Negan isn't really someone who has reactions that can be predicted, your attitude could piss him off, anger him or maybe even amuse him and, in this case, amusement is what he shows.

He laughs your words off, his tall frame crushing your confidence though you try your best not to let it show too much, " **M** 'not gonna ask again, princes." he clarifies, taking the fact that you actually understood what he wanted from you without him saying it out loud as an order he already gave you and you've decided to ignore.

When you only glare at him as an answer, silently telling him to get fucked, he barks out a laugh, leaning back like he does when he laughs before straightening back up. You see him bring Lucille off of his shoulder but, for some reason, you're not actually afraid that he might hurt you, you're not too sure why, maybe because you don't really give a damn.

_probably._

He carefully lets his hand slide on his bat, eyeing you to silently warn you that this is your last chance to comply and, when you don't say nor do anything, he swiftly taps the back of your right knee with Lucille, making said knee give out, forcing you into kneeling in front of him, your cheeks burning and your throat violently closing in embarrassment. Your jeans protected you for the barbwire covering the bat put he's put enough pressure down on the right nerves to make your knee shake and give away.

" **G** od fucking damn, kitten. What a fuckin' sight. Y'know," he starts before crouching in front of you, smirking when you push your head further down to avoid his stare, "you can still go back, [y/n]. S'only been a fuckin' day so I'll go real easy on ya if you just apologize like the good girl y'are." he says before bringing one of his hands down your jaw, grabbing it to make you look up at him and, though you hate yourself for it, you can't help the needy whine that vibrates through your throat, making his smirk grow, when the rest of his hand comes to rest on the column of it, " **Y** eah, y'love when daddy gets angry and rough don't ya, baby? I know y'do. Look at ya, all hot and bothered for me, princess." he pauses to take in your flushed cheeks and your eyes shinning with lust you don't even realize you're feeling at the moment, " **S** o, you wanna apologize and get this dumb shit over with or you still wanna go through with this bullshit? Think about it, kitten, we both know you're a good little girl no matter how hard you try to break that damn mold, s'who you are and I fuckin' love it. Get comfortable with it and just let me take care of the rest, yeah?" by the time he finishes his little speech, you want to punch him in the face just as much as you want to cry.

You know he's right, you've never been one to act up but something about him just makes you want to do bad things just to get to him. You hate to admit it but you know that it's because of the promise of one hell of a punishment afterwards, you don't know why you love it so damn much, you don't understand it and you feel terrible for it but you can't help it, you love his hands on you and you do, indeed, love when he gets angry and rough with you. 

You can't explain it but it's only because you don't know anything about your own sexuality yet. You don't know that sexuality is different for everyone. You just happen to be a kinky one and, though you don't know that yet, Negan does and he keeps on getting more and more impatient about it because he just wants to give you what you so badly crave, teach you wicked things, there's no other words for it; he just wants to wreck you in the best ways possible.

" **I** -I wanna go through with it, sir." you whisper, trying to be polite not to anger him but all your words do is make his pants unbelievably uncomfortable for the second time today.

_today sucks._

 

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 **TWO DAYS LATER** **//** **5:00 PM** **//**

It's now been three days in total since yo've started your little game with Negan and it's seriously starting to get to you. You've had no idea just how poorly you would deal with keeping your distance from him, not allowing him to touch you and not being allowed to run to him without it being considered you giving up on your newly found freedom.

You like that you get to work, do something productive, actually pull your weight around but, goddamn, **you're unhappy**.

The first day started out strong with you beating someone to the ground and you thought that you had at least a little bit of a grip on the situation when you've successfully walked away from Negan and even managed to keep your composure but, of course, he made you doubt your decision, yourself, in a heartbeat afterwards.

When he crouched down in front of you, smirking after he'd forced you down on one knee, you knew you've already lost this battle.

Thing is, you're realizing now that you're not just losing battles anymore, **you're losing the damn war**. Which is why you've spend the last two days locked away in your room, skipping meals, hiding away beneath your blankets, sometimes crying yourself to sleep. You can't stand the mere thought of simply _seeing_ him, you know you're gonna break if you do.

You want him to touch you, you're always craving him and you hate him for that, **he** did that to you, **it's all his fault**.

Your mind keeps creating scenarios that make you see red, make your blood boil in jealousy. You can't help but think about how Negan's probably having fun with the women he keeps around while you're forced to stay on your own, it hurts to even think about it and God knows that it's the last thing you want to think about but your mind keeps on forcing you to believe what it throws at you.

For all you know, he might actually feel just as lonely as you do, he might actually be just as frustrated as you are.  **He is**. He's all those things and he sure as shit isn't having fun on the side like your anxiety keeps on trying to convince you he is. You don't know that but he's not enjoying this whole thing either, **not at all**.

What you also don't know is that Negan actually came to check on you but you were deeply asleep, you slept so damn much that he had the time to leave the Sanctuary and then come back without you even knowing that he wasn't around. He just came back today after spending a day and an half outside looking for a way to keep his mind occupied whilst you found safety beneath the sheets of your bed, sleeping the days away.

He's all over the goddamn place, all you can think about is him, all you can smell is him, all you can see when you stop concentrating on whatever you're doing is him. He's all over you without even touching you or being near you and you hate it.

You need him to touch you so badly and he's right here, living under the same roof as you, constantly looking at you yet he's completely out of reach and it frustrates the hell out of you.

_c'mon, [y/n], there's only four days left._

Four days left to show Negan that you can assume your position as one of his workers, that you don't need him to take care of you and you felt so damn confident about it three days ago... **You don't anymore** , not one bit.

It's not that you can't handle yourself, _far from it._  You can handle yourself better than Negan could ever handle himself, you know that and so does he, but there's something about him taking care of you, cooing you and keeping his eyes on you that just appeases you.

Thing is, you've always been the one in charge of yourself. Ever since you were a little girl, you were forced into adulthood and you became independent at such a young age, you were way too young to handle things the way you did. Don't get it twisted, your maturity and independence are things you're proud of, things you love about yourself but, sometimes, you also hate them with every fibers of your being.

When Negan came into your life, his behavior pushed you to realize that you need someone to take control sometimes, you really do. You need to let go of everything and put them into someone else's hands and, as crazy at it might sound, you don't trust anyone like you trust Negan when it comes to taking care of you whenever you need someone to do so and it seems to be become more and more frequent nowadays.

You're tired, tired of always being in control, tired of always being the one making decisions, tired of people relaying on you, tired of acting like things don't get to you when they do, tired of that damn smile plastered on your face twenty-four-seven no matter how sad, angry or frustrated you are. You're tired of always having to be **that** girl.

You've always been that girl, the one to make people laugh, the one listening to people's problems without ever taking the time to talk about her own damn problems because no one ever seemed to give a shit anyways but, most importantly, you're sick of being the girl who never says no because she's scared to hurt people's feelings, to upset or anger them, and you sure as shit are sick of people taking advantage of it.

You know that Negan also has fun poking at your weak spots but, with him, it's different. You don't why or how, it just is. Probably become it doesn't come from a bad place, he just loves to tease you and see how far things can go, he never does it with the intent to hurt you. There's no doubt to be had; that man hurt you and he still does, he's doing it right now, but you can't bring yourself to believe that it's intentional.

It seems like, no matter what happens, no matter what you say, he's still in complete control of you without even trying and you might actually like that aspect of your relationship. It seems insane to you but you love letting him have control, you love when you give him said control just as much as you love when he just takes it from you without asking. You've never realized just how much weight you've had been carrying around until he's started to take control away from you.

 

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**09:00 PM //**

The compound is completely silent as you walk around through the corridors, your stomach in knots as you get closer and closer to the staircase leading to Negan's quarters.

These past few days have been so hard for you, Randall is always on your mind, you're dragging an unhealthy amount of anger and sadness with you, more than you can actually carry and it's starting to seriously get to you. You might have not picked the best time to force yourself to stay away from Negan, your need for him is getting out of control and you're not comfortable with that but it's only because you can't do anything to appease those cravings, only him can to that and, right now, you can't let him and it's killing you.

Tonight, Negan's put you "in charge" of bringing him his meal and you suspect that he might know exactly what he's doing. Of course he knows, that's why he does the things he does.

Your hands are shaking like crazy and it feels like you're about to drop the tray filled with food all over the damn floor but you somehow manage to get to Negan's office, shyly knocking on the door and he wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't actually waiting for you.

" **C** 'mon in, princess." he gives you permission to come into the room from the other side of the door.

 _how 'bout you c'mon out, uh? that'd be nice_.

You start to freak out at the idea of stepping into that room because you know that you'll get overwhelmed if you do. You can't be around him, you can't afford that and you sure as shit can't afford being locked in a room with him, you're gonna blow a fuse.

You're about to drop the tray of food on the floor and run for dear life but Negan opens the door right in front of you as if he could actually hear your internal screams of panic and you completely freeze into place. His eyes run all over you, taking in your appearance and an almost scary grunt leaves his mouth when he sees that you're only wearing a white t-shirt and a goddamn thong, your legs covered up to your knees with your white knee-high socks.

But, while he's busy taking you in, something catches your attention; his white shirt is covered in fresh looking blood and he even has some splattered on his face and, since you have no idea that he's been outside for almost two days now, it worries the hell out of you.

" **N** egan, wh-" he doesn't let you finish as he grabs your forearm and drags you into his office, slamming the door shut behind you before taking the tray of food out of your hands to carelessly drop it on his desk. Your body is pressed flush against his in an instant and you can hear your heart beating into your ears as you get overwhelmed by his presence.

_uuuugh, he smells so good._

" **T** his is so fuckin' stupid." he says, his voice low and angry, before letting his lips crash into yours, stealing your breath away.

You're not supposed to be doing this, you shouldn't let it continue but you don't want it to end it, you can't let it. You need him in ways than you don't understand and quite frankly freak you out.

" **P** retty sure I've just won our game, Negan." you whisper against his lips when you two finally force yourselves to break the kiss to catch your breath.

" **F** uck that, I make the fuckin' rules around here, kitten. I ain't lost shit, this whole fuckin' thing is about you, not me. Rules don't apply to me, you should know that by now."

His words make you snap, there's no other way to describe your reaction. You step away from him, pushing against his chest to create even more distance between the two of you and your eyes slowly start to fill with pure anger and, though he won't say it right now because he knows you'll beat his ass to the ground if he does, he loves setting you off.

" **Y** 'know what? No, uh-uh, s'not fair, Negan! I would have been the one doing that, you would have called me needy and you wouldn't even have taken in consideration how much I miss you!" from this point on, there's no turning back.

You've just told him that you miss him and your mind keeps forcing your feelings out of your damn mouth without your permission to do so, " **I** miss you so damn much, I don't know what's wrong with me, okay?! You- You make me feel things that I don't understand and it scares me but- but then you come around and you make it all better and- and now I can't- I can't have that because I'm too fucking stubborn to admit it to you though I'm pretty sure that's exactly what I just did! I'm a fucking mess and it's all your fault!" you spit out without thinking, laying every single things you've always been too afraid to tell him on the table and, just like that, you storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you and running out of his quarters, tears invading your eyes once again.

The cold air of the night is burning your highly sensitive skin as it hits your tear-soaked face, your nose stuffy and running from both the current temperature and your crying. You need to get out of here, you need to be on your own, in a neutral environment. You need to be away from him.

_no offense but- m'pretty sure you just kinda told negan that you loved him... dumbass._

 

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 **MIDNIGHT** **//**

You're out, happily breathing the air of the night in, enjoying the sounds of the owls and the leaves of the trees surrendering you blowing in the wind. It feels right, being out here feels right and you needed that, you needed to be with yourself for a little while.

Of course you'll go back, you wouldn't have left a note to Negan if you didn't plan on coming back and, yeah, he's probably gonna be pissed but **you come first** , you need to make yourself a priority for once in your life.

The heavy reality of what the words you've shouted at Negan earlier tonight is weighting a tone on your shoulders but it also gave you relief to finally let those things out, whatever they are and whatever they mean.

There's so many things to be worried about nowadays, if someone would have told you that you someday would be standing there, stressing over a man, especially in this kind of environment, you would have told them that drugs are bad for their little brain. Yet, here you are, doing the one thing you've promised yourself not do to which is to catch feelings for someone and you sure as shit didn't plan to feel that way towards a man as wicked as Negan, **ever**.

" _Don't let anyone mistreat you, you're a princess and you deserve the very best, nothing below._ ", Luna words start to echo through your mind and you can almost feel the terrible ass whooping you would have gotten from her if she knew about your relationship with Negan.

" **I** miss you, Luna... I miss dad." you stop walking for a second to look up at the clear night sky, not a star nor a cloud to be seen, just the moon, " **D** amn- I miss mom, too."

It might sound cruel but, it's in those instants that you stop and thank whatever God for not giving you the capacity to conceive a child. No one can blame you for feeling like you're better off, not after all the shit you've been forced through.

You can't stand the idea of a little innocent and vulnerable version of you getting hurt like you've been hurt when you were just a little girl, enjoying life and finding awe in everything. People took so much from you, they hurt you so bad, you can't possibly have a calm nor positive view on what childhood truly is, not after you were unfairly robbed of yours.

You'll never forget the monsters you came across, the monsters your own mother allowed into your house, **into your very own bedroom** , the one place you're supposed to feel safe in.

And, no matter how hard you try, you can never erase the memory of your mom closing the door of your bedroom with tears in her eyes, telling you to be good, that it'll gonna be okay, as you're crying and begging for her to get the grown man on top of you away from you. She made it seems so normal, so harmless, but **you knew**. You knew it was anything but and you fought through it.

You remember finally getting your small fingers around the lamp on your nightstand and bringing it down on the man's head, making him roll off of you. You remember running downstairs, looking at your mother with tears filling your eyes, your face soaking in the salty water and opening the door of the house before bolting out and running down the streets, crying your heart out as your mom called after you but quickly gave up.

You remember running for so long the sun had set, you remember your small hands balled into tights little fists coming down on the door of the house belonging to the Dixons, you remember a drunken Merle quickly putting himself together to take you in his arms, showing what he rarely showed; concern, worry and a whole lot of love as he tried to understand what happened.

You remember staying up really late that night with him, watching a bunch of Disney movies, Merle making comments here and there to try and successfully make you laugh. You remember explaining him what happened to you, unsure of what exactly did happen, you'd told him that all you knew was that; it was felt really wrong and he agreed with you, trying to come up with an explanation to try and make you understand that you almost got abused by a grown ass man but he just didn't have it in him so he just said; " **T** _here's a lot of very bad, fucked up people out there and they do really, really bad, fucked up things, pumpkin, and I'm sorry that they keep on finding their way to you but- Y'know what I think? I think that people hate purity, they hate innocence because, nowadays, no one has any of that left so, when they spot a lil' angel like yourself just walkin' around, mindin' her own goddamn business, they just- They feel the need to ruin that and I'm sorry, pumpkin, 'cause it ain't fair to ya._ ".

You're still unsure what his words truly meant, all you know is that; they got to you and they kept you from letting every fucked up things that happened to you change and define you.

It's scary that you feel so damn different after what happened to Randall, that you feel like you've lost a huge part of yourself that you'll never get back because it's all broken and shattered to pieces now. Maybe that heartbreak was one too many and it finished the job which, if you think about it, something else was bond to do so at some point anyways.

You let out a small giggle at the memory of the day when Merle accidentally swore around your two years old self, you'll never forget how wide his eyes got when you've repeated the bad word over and over again, giggling as you did. You remember him trying to bargain his way out of this situation, promising you such and such thing just to get you to stop saying that damned word but seeing him freaking out only amused you further and you eventually started to clap your hands as you chanted the swear.

Daryl walked into the room and burst out laughing at the scene, earning a death glare from his older brother but they eventually got you to stop you from saying the forbidden word- Well, that was until your father came back from his hunt with the boys' father and you ran into his arms, asking him what the beautiful word Merle had taught you meant, luckily for him, your dad actually laughed it off and told you it was an ugly word or whatever you say to get a two years old to stop saying "fuck" all willy-nilly.

Your mind is brought back to reality when you spot a light piercing through the trees a few meters away from you, you narrow your eyes to try and identify who the person is but your eyes aren't the one to give you an answer, your ears are.

"[ **Y** /n]!?" you hear an all too familiar voice call for you, it's Negan's.

He's whispering but you can hear him even from this distance because the anger in his voice make his words extremely clear, as if he was standing right beside you.

_ooh, wonder if he's found the note?_

Before you've left to take a walk by yourself, you've made sure to leave a note in your bedroom basically saying that you will be back in the morning and you meant it, you did not run away, you just sneaked out to get some fresh air.

You didn't really count on him to find it but you still decided to leave something there so that he wouldn't freak out or think that you ran off again though you wouldn't do that, you can't afford to put your friends' safety at risk. Negan made it very clear;, you run off and he goes straight back to taking from Rick's group and he then will come and get you back no matter what. Running is just pointless and it'll be selfish of you.

Your hands start to shake even more violently just because you know that he's out here, looking for you, that he actually came to check on you after you've snapped at him though he only found your note and not you. You want nothing more than to run straight back into his arms, take in his scent and apologize even if you don't have a damn thing to apologize for.

You just wanted things to be okay, you wanted to stop the hurt, you wanted to put some order back into your mind, to break the emotional storm taking over your head but you didn't get the chance to.

The last thing you felt was a damp piece of cloth covering both your mouth and nose and then nothing. It's all darkness, there's nothing to be found, no pieces of the puzzle to put back together because you don't remember a damn thing.

You know that your eyes fluttered open a few times but you don't remember what they saw and you also remember not being able to move a damn muscle, that you remember really **fucking** clearly because it terrified you, you remember crying and then it's black again.

Honestly? The only clear thing in your mind as of right now is Negan's voice calling your name, that's all but, at least, there's something. Something good, something familiar.

 

**1:00** **PM** **//**

Your eyes finally open fully but, when they do, you wish they would have stayed tightly shut. The first thing they fall on is a bunch of pictures laying on the ground, right next to your face- Pictures of you... sleeping? You're not too sure, you look kind of conscious in some of them but not fully aware of your surroundings.

You can't stop yourself from throwing up at the sight of those pictures, puke ending up on your shirt as well as your bare thighs and that's when your heart starts to truly freak out.

You had pants on, you don't remember how the hell you ended wherever it is you are right now but you know **for a fact** that you were wearing pants, socks and shoes and a... bra which is now on the floor, centimeters away from you.

You look around and, though your vision is blurry from the tears building up in them, you're pretty sure that you're in an attic.

" **H** -how the- How the hell-" you try to move but, not only are your legs barely awake, there's loud rattling sounds coming straight from behind your back, " **W** ha-" you look down and spot cuffs on both of your wrists and ankles, chains rolled around a big wooden pillar behind you, keeping you from going anywhere.

_this isn't right. what the hell is this shit?_

" **H** ey, look who's awake." a man's voice says, making you jump, your head snapping up to meet whoever the fuck this dude is and he actually takes a small step back when he spots the anger in your eyes though it's softened by the tears drowning them, " **S** o," he crouches down a few feet away from you, "I'm sorry about the whole- Y'know, sneaking up on ya and using chloroform. I know, sucky move but-"

" **W** here the hell- Who- What do you want from me?" you ask, your mind trying to process all the information it's being given but, so far, it seems to be failing.

" **H** ey, it's okay, I'm not here to hurt you, alright?"

" **W** h-why can't I feel a-anything? I ca-can't feel my legs o-or my a-arms and-"

" **I** t's okay, honey, just gave you a little something to help with your stress. It's alright, trust me and just relax."

_it's okay? really? **trust me**?! fucking really?! relax?! hOW?!_

You put your head down when a tear escapes you, not wanting to give whoever this psycho is the satisfaction of seeing you cry because of him, " **A** -are you- Are you alone?"

" **N** ot anymore I'm not." you still keep on looking down until the man slips one of the pictures he took of you while you were unconscious right in front of your face, coaxing a sob out of you, " **L** ook how fucking beautiful you are. What's your name, princess?"

" **N** -Negan." is all that comes out of your word as if saying his name will make him magically appear in the room or give you super-human strength to destroy the bitch in front of you.

" **N** egan, uh?" he repeats with a scoff,  " **S** 'okay if you don't want to give your name, you'll get there. I'm-"

" **I** don't give a shit." you spit out, not needing his name. To you, he's just another twisted man among others, nothing new yet nothing you want to get used to because fuck that.

No words come out of his mouth nor yours until you feel a sharp pain on the side of your waist, looking down, you spot a freaking syringe injecting a clear liquid into you, the man's thumb pushing said liquid into your body.

" **W** -" you try, you really do, but you can't form the rest of your sentence, you just pass out again.

 

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 **THE NEXT DAY** **//** **4:00 PM** **//**

You don't know how long you've been out for, you're just glad to be able to feel and move your legs when you finally wake up. Your arms are still really weak, your knuckles still bloody and busted open from the beating you gave skinny Joe, your right shoulder reminding you that it has barely even begun to heal after you got shot weeks ago.

You slowly and clumsily climb up on your knees, your vision slowly clearing and you spot new photos of you on the floor, your blood boiling with anger but your eyes are glistening with vulnerability and sorrow. You pull on the chains linked to the cuffs on your ankles and wrists but it's useless, it's just more of your energy wasted on something futile.

You sit there, your hands helplessly resting on the top of your thighs, your bum sitting on your cuffed feet as you let tears roll out of your eyes and down your face, letting them hit the wooden floor beneath you, a few sob pushing they're way out of your sore and raw throat.

Your body is aching for rest and care, it's begging for you to let it get rid of whatever drugs this stranger forced into you and it ends up getting what it needs when your stomach violently clenches up, making you throw up on the floor and on your t-shirt yet again. Your throat is on fire from the gastric acid that was just pushed out of your stomach, nothing else could have come out of there since you haven't eaten in days.

You don't know why the most fucked up people somehow always seem to find their way to you but you don't appreciate it, you're getting seriously sick of it. It's destroying you, those people are slowly killing you and there's nothing you can do but feel it.

Things went to shit so, so fast, you didn't even get the chance to get a grip on the situation. Last thing you knew, he, whoever might _he_ be, was standing right in front of you, he then proceeded to take your panties away from you though you fought to keep your legs screwed shut and then the sound of the metallic loop of his belt hitting the floor made you sob in fear and panic.

It just went to shit so quickly, you don't understand it, you though you'd be ready for it, between him drugging you, proceed to take your pants and bra off to then take pictures of you whilst you're laying there unconscious and the way he spoke to you, **you knew**.

Of course you knew, you're not stupid. You've been there before and history just keeps on repeating itself, it's always you and it always hurts. You've just never been one to try and put a judgment on someone you don't even know, no matter how loudly your mind is screaming that something is wrong about them to try and keep you safe.

In your head, you were supposed to kick his ass the second he'd get too close to you but, now that's it's happening, now that he's right there, holding you up, the most private part of your body completely bare for him to see and touch, his nails digging into the flesh on your waist and his face so damn close to yours; you can't.

You can't bring yourself to be brave, you can't find strength anywhere, it's hiding in a corner of your mind and it's too scared to come out and you know that you'll be angry at yourself for not fighting back like you """""should have""""" when this is all said and done.

Truth is, no one is ever ready for that kind of scenario, **ever**. It's not supposed to happen, it's not something that your brain is supposed to be planning for because **it simply isn't supposed to happen** , not to anyone. You can't fight back in these instances because your mind as well as your body are in deep shock so, to try and keep the person from getting traumatized by the situation, the brain gives up control and it's why victims of sexual abuse often describe the whole situation as "unreal", because the brain makes it so it seems as if it never happened and, sometimes, it can make recovering **really** complicated. That's what happened to you before, what's happening right now.

You're not too sure how things got so damn out of hands, all you know is that; one minute he was standing there, looking at you like a predator looks at his prey, stepped closer to you, crushed you against his body and you tried really hard to push him off of you, biting and ripping some flesh off of one of his hands resulting in him hitting you over and over, not cutting you a break until he'd decided that you've had enough.

Once again, you're brought back to the helpless little girl you used to be and there's nothing you can do about it, not a damn fucking thing.

" **C** 'mon, honey, you know you need that shit too." the man insists, pushing himself further upon your shaking frame.

_this is not happening, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real._

You keep repeating the same sentence to yourself as if it somehow will make this pig go away, as if it will make what he's trying to do come to an end but it doesn't and you can feel your entire body caving in.

There's tears rolling uncontrollably down your face and cries of protest coming out of your mouth as you fight to try and keep that thing away from you but you have a hard time doing so because you refuse to look down at him, to even take the risk to catch a glimpse of **it** , you can't.

Unfortunately, you eventually start to run out of stamina to fight and you can feel your body begging for it to stop, your mind is in complete chaos and all you can think about is Negan; how scared you are without him around, how much you miss his protectiveness, how badly you need him to magically appear in this room and how much you miss him, the whole him, his cocky behavior, his twisted ways, the way he has to show you and only you affection, you just miss him and you hate it.

You're violently brought back to the awful situation you're in when you actually feel this man trying to push into you and, finally, a series of sobs start to leave your mouth. You're breaking and everything hurts.

You're obviously not aroused right now which means that your body is far, far from awaiting sexual intercourse, it's not preparing for that, it's actually doing quite the opposite as both your body and mind are feeling, and actually are, attacked. It's shutting itself down and showing resistance to the man trying to violate your privacy in such a disgusting, cowardly, fucked up way.

" **S** hh, relax, sweetheart-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence when something clicks inside your head and you end up twisting your arms around, hearing and feeling both of your shoulders pop in their sockets in the process but you push trough the sharp pain to wrap the chain the fucker has you locked in around his neck and you instantly start to pull on it, your eyes never leaving him as he's suffocating all whilst trying to fight back but the shot of adrenaline you've received when he actually tried to push himself into you is giving you way more force than he could ever gather and, eventually, he ends up heavily falling at your feet, lifeless and all you can do is pull some more on the chain, crying your heart out, until you hear his neck actually break under the pressure you've been putting down on it and that's when you finally stop and let yourself fall on the floor as well.

Sitting there, the only thing hiding your body being the tee-shirt you've had on the night this man took you and it's now covered in a mix of your vomit and sweat but you don't care, at all. All you care about is that it's hiding you, it's protecting you, he did not take that away from you.

You shakily grab your undies and put them back on before slowly getting up, tears still pouring out of your eyes, your throat clenched, your heart beating insanely fast, your legs and hands shaking in fear, shock and disgust and your whole body aches in pain and shock.

You just needed some time all on your own, that's all. You never would have thought that this shit would just happen, just like that. How the hell were you supposed to ever plan something like that?

You've had bad run-ins in the past, hell, Jason is definitely on the top five but you never, **ever** , have stumbled upon someone as twisted, disgusting and wrong as this man. Nothing ever want **that** far, it never went so damn close to turning into what you fear the most.

Negan suddenly feels like a real life angel.

You run your shaking hands through your messy hair and try to catch your breath but it's no use, neither your lungs nor your heart seem to be ready to calm down any time soon.

You pull at your chains but you're, for one; too weak to break out of them and, two; too shocked to be rational about how you could properly get out of them so, you do what your primal instinct pushes you do to and you start kicking on the thick wooden pillar the chains are rolled around.

Eventually, you run out of energy and start crying some more, frustrated and angry. You feel like pulling your hair out, your mind isn't working properly and neither is your body but you try and take a small second to think this through and, eventually, it clicks.

You crawl down on the floor, pushing the chains holding you as far as you can to reach for the now dead man's pants and start to search for the keys of your restrains which you quickly find but your shaking hands make it really hard for you to unlock the cuffs locked around your ankles and wrists.

You eventually get there, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that your skin has been ripped off during your struggle, blood pouring out of the multiple wounds, you're covered in bruises and you haven't even taken a look at them, you just feel them all over you. Your face is bruised and bloody, your bottom lip busted open just like your right brow bone, blood dripping down your right eyelid and lashes to then roll down your face like a tear would.

 

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**6:15** **PM** **//**

A quick glance down at the watch snaked around your bloody, wounded wrist is the only reason that you know what day it is as well as the time. As you look down at the ticking watch and you wonder why you even bothered to put this thing back on your wrist when the skin there is all ripped off and blood is still dripping off of the mean looking burns and rips on the fragile skin.

It might seem stupid but you just couldn't leave your watch behind, you just couldn't. Whoever that man was already took so much from you, you refused to let him keep something else of yours, no matter how superficial the item might seem, it isn't to you.

You've been walking for hours, you're exhausted, your mind is still racing and in a complete blind panic still, your heart now beating extremely slow as it tries to recover from all the adrenaline it just received, your lungs as well as your throat and stomach are all slowly un-clenching but the process is really slow and it's painful and uncomfortable.

You've been wandering around in nothing but your panties and your dirty t-shirt, no socks, bra or shoes on. It just felt so pointless to you, the thought of covering yourself up didn't even cross your mind because you feel so bare and vulnerable already, clothes won't change that.

With your backpack tightly pressed against your chest, now heavy with the weight of your combat boots in it, you're pointlessly wandering around, tears still drowning your eyes and blurring your vision, so much so that you find it to be a miracle that you didn't run into a walker or even a freaking tree yet.

" **W** hen was the last time you were really happy, [y/n]?" your hands start to shake as your mind starts to play tricks on you but you're just so damn vulnerable at the moment that you can't help but fall into the twisted game your mind is now playing.

" **Y** -you sh-should-shouldn't be here." you whisper, keeping your legs moving as you do.

" **Y** 'really believe that this is what I wanted for you?"

" **L** e-leave me alone."

" **I** t never left ya, did it?" he says, referring to a conversation you overheard between your father and your grand-dad when you were just a little girl.

" **N** o." you sternly answer to the version of your dad your mind is projecting right next to you, as if he was right here, walking right by your side.

" **Y** ou've always been so damn quiet, sweetheart." he pauses and you're having a hard time keeping your tears to yourself. You don't want to cry for someone who isn't even there, you don't have the luxury to be able to waste that energy, " **H** ell, I remember how you used to just walk around the house, neither me or your mom would hear ya, and we always felt like shit about it. Our baby was so shy, always trying to make herself even smaller than she already was, she still does."

It's rare when this happens to you but, when it does, **it does for a reason**. You don't like it though, you don't like it because you know damn well that your dad isn't actually here, talking to you, that you can't touch or hug him, you can't ask him for comfort or safety, it's just a blurry figure of what aspects of him you can still remember and a voice that you're pretty isn't his coming out of it.

You've never made time to mourn your father, you didn't get to and you didn't want to either way. To you, the idea of mourning your dad was like accepting that he was gone and you were far, **far** from okay with that. You didn't want to be at peace with the fact that he never came home, that you had to grow up without him by your sides, that your life turned to shit ever since he left, you didn't want to make peace with his death, it was too much to ask of you and it still is to this day.

" **Y** ou're still the same little girl I left behind and it fucking hurts." and there it goes.

That's what always happens, first you see him, he talks to you and then you're slapped in the face when reality settles in and you remember how dysfunctional your brain is, how incapable it is to produce positive thoughts, how messy it gets and how badly it handles situations of stress.

That's what depression is; a brain malfunction, " **C** an you imagine what kind of person you could have been? For fuck's sake! If you didn't make the fucking school call for me to come and get you- Fucking hell! I would still be alive and you wouldn't be stuck with the mindset of a fucking six years old!" your head starts to ache as the projection of your father walks up to you, grunts coming out of it and you take a small step back, tears silently rolling down your face, " **I** had a fucking job, a wife I loved with all my fucking heart, a life I was happy with- What did you have, huh? What do you have?! You took that away from me you bratty, spoiled little bitch!"

" **M** -M'sorry- Dad- Pl-please, stop-"

" **Y** ou get to fucking live and turns out you can't even fucking have kids! What's the fucking use, sweetheart? You really believe that someone's gonna want to build a life with you when you can't even think like a fuckin' grown up and you don't even have the fucking decency to be able to have kids? The one thing every fucking woman on this Earth can do, you can't? What a fucking joke!"

" **S** -Stop it!" you beg as your mind is now using your dad as a way to project all the negativity, anger and insecurities you have of yourself.

" **I** loved you so damn much... I can't believe my little girl got me killed."

" **I** d-didn't! I didn't!"

" **Y** ou're still as pure as day one and it's gonna get you killed, sweetheart." are its last words before the shape of your father turns into something even less pleasant.

You end up face to face with a walker, hungrily snapping its jaw at you, and you come to terms with the fact that you've been crying and yelling at nothing for minutes now.

You don't care that this whole thing wasn't real, those words still weight heavy on you and they cut you really deep, they hurt way more than they usually would. It's not the first time your mind finds a way to spew these words out at you using your father as a way to bring out all that anger you're feeling towards nobody else but your own self out on you and, boy, does it work wonders.

Today might be the day too much for you, you're so mentally and physically exhausted that you don't even fight back against the walker that's now reached you, its hands finally getting a hold of you, its nails digging into the soft flesh of your forearms and you're ready. You're ready to let what's about to happen happen, you're okay with it, you're completely at peace with the fact that you're about to get gutted and die in the most violent of ways.

You don't care if it's slow, if you feel every single bit of it until your very last breath, if you get to see it all happen, you don't care. You just want to rest and finally be at peace, you need that release. You need it all to stop and it means that you don't care in how much pain you'll be beforehand. You can feel yourself getting crushed under all the weight you've been and still are carrying around and you can't take it anymore, it's all too much and you need it to end, you just want to finally be able to rest, that's all.

Thing is; no matter how clouded by your depression your judgement is, the real you is still fighting somewhere in all this mess and she doesn't seem to be so willing to give up the fight no matter how bloody, bruised and tired she will be when she'll get out if it because, yes, **she will get out of it eventually**.

That kind of thought is rare for you to have so, when you do, it gives you hope. It's a sign that lets you know that you're still in there somewhere, that you're not ready to give it all up, **not yet**. It pushes you to fight back, to tighten your grip on things no matter how tired you are.

Your backpack slips out of your grip after you've grabbed your butterfly knife out of one of the front pockets. One of your hands swiftly gets behind the walker's head and firmly grabs the back of its neck, your nails digging into the rotten flesh, pushing the re-animated corps even closer to you so you can push the blade of your knife right through its fragile skull, blood pouring out and running down on your fingers.

You let go of the now dead body to let it fall flat on the ground, shaking the fresh blood off of your fingers, wiping it away on your already dirty shirt, not wanting to let the walker's blood make contact with the fresh and opened wounds sitting on your wrist and knuckles.

You're out of breath, your heart beating out of control and you can't stop the sobs stuck in your throat anymore. You're exhausted and the realization of what you almost let happen hits you hard; you were about to let yourself die, you actually were willing to get gutted just to end it all, to appease your pain and that's a really hard thing for you to process.

You soon start to cry your heart out in the middle of the abandoned road, covered in blood, bruises and wounds, your mind trying really hard to process what happened today, to put words on it, to try and figure out if it was actually real or not and you wish that it wasn't but you can **feel it.** It's all over you, that man's left his marks and it's not just physical.

" **H** ey- You alright?" a soft but scruffy voice asks, making your shoulders tense at attention.

_fan-fucking-tastic, thanks._

You shyly look up to see a man standing in front of you and three other persons standing behind him, they're all armed but the one talking to you has his hands up to show that he doesn't mean you any harm though it doesn't really matter to you, not after today.

Honestly, you can't really see them clearly, your eyes are filled with tears as a bunch of them are still rolling down your face like water out of a broken faucet. You just know that his voice is somewhat appeasing, the complete opposite of the man's you've escaped from. It's soft and warm yet really deep, some might define it as "manly" but you don't believe that deep voices should be labeled as such, women can have deep voices too.

Right now isn't the best time to be talking to you though. Mainly because you know damn well that the second you'll open your mouth, sobs will break out of there again and you can't afford to show any more vulnerability that you already have in front of those people.

It doesn't matter how badly you want to fight the exhaustion taking over your body or the tears blurring your vision, it really doesn't. Your body's had enough for one day, it's all bloody and bruised, suffering from some serious injuries and the shit storm going off inside your head does nothing to help. Whatever drugs you've been given still clearly affecting both your body and mind.

When you're in the state that you're in right now, your will to keep a straight face and to keep pushing through the day has no importance whatsoever.

You can feel yourself getting dizzier and dizzier by the second, your head spinning, your body suddenly weighing a freaking tone, your legs shaking so much that your knees are about to give out and, when they do, you black out before your body hits the ground, the last thing you hear is a curse coming out of the stranger's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lil cupcakes, I hope you're all doing amazing, sorry about the delay on this chapter, I was in such a bad place and I just couldn't bring myself to write (or do anything, really).  
> I know this chapter is kind of dark but it has its reasons for it to be. I'm not gonna lie, writing this chapter was super hard for me but I also really needed it. Writing's always been a way for me to let things out since I never talk about how I really feel, I'm always all smiles and rainbows but, hey, we all know that reality isn't all happy and bright all the time, it just can't be. So, yeah, anyways! I just wanted to let you know really quickly that; I've been through really violent mental and physical abuse, been through depression (I'm better now but that lil bitch is still creeping out from time to time, just to remind me not to get too ahead of myself) and sexual abuse is, sadly enough, something that I know of all too personally so, yeah, if you need someone to talk to, please, don't hesitate to come to me, I mean it.
> 
> Anyway! Enough with all the gloomy shit, we got better thangs to be doing, Becky!
> 
> Y'all better stay safe, I love you aaaaaand... go eat a cookie, you deserve it.
> 
> ps // do not worry, citizens, Negan and the OFC will be back together pretty damn quickly and I'll give them more moments together (I dunno if it's been a while or not, all I know is that I, personally, feel like I haven't written about these two together, sharing a moment, in a while so... ya...
> 
> (oh, and, before I forget, the OFC will also get to spend time with Rick's group and will be reunited with Jesus in the upcoming chapters (can't tell ya when exactly because I'm a terrible person).  
> (ALSO! leave Mike alone, he's my new baby, I have to compensate now that Randall's gone.)


	25. History and hers //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey... so... I'm not dead... yay (?)  
> honestly, I know this chapter's been a loooooong time coming but I was in such a weird place and I just couldn't concentrate on a damn thing, let alone sit down and write.  
> I'm sorry about leaving you guys hanging like that but, hey, I'm a lil human being too (a really broken and dysfunctional one at that) which means that I too go through some shit and have to feel things (gross, I know) that I'm not too keen on feeling from time to time and it's pretty damn sucky to deal with.
> 
> Anyways! I'm back (for better or for worse and all that jazz... yes, we are married, all of us, y'all stuck with my dysfunctional ass.) and I also wanted to take a few seconds to thank you, so so so so, so much for sticking around and for your patience, seriously, it means the world to me, you have no idea.  
> I luh you guys so much! SMOOCHES FOR YO FACE! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

**FLASHBACK** **//** **A WEEK AGO** **//**

" **I** 'm tellin' ya, he better not fuckin' hurt her 'cause I'll fuckin' kill that sonuvabitch."

" **H** e won't." Paul carefully says, his eyes finding great interest in the dead leafs beneath his boots when Daryl gives him a deadly glare, " **H** e cares about her."

" **H** e doesn't care about no fucking body but his scrawny ass!"

Paul can't help the laugh coming out of his mouth at his angry friend's word but Daryl doesn't seem to mind, he actually smiles a little before throwing his whole upper body against the trunk of the pretty dead looking tree behind him, groaning in defeat and frustration, his eyes glued to the covered sky as if it holds all the answers to his questions. Hint; **it does not**.

A somewhat comfortable silence takes over between the two men as they sit there, in the middle of the woods, bodies ready to take on anything that might get the bright idea to come for them, ears perked up like dogs', listening for any kind of movement around them. Everything about the two survivors is on edge though the archer seems a little more comfortable with his surroundings, used to living outside more than Jesus is.

" **D** id she-" Jesus starts but hesitate before finishing his sentence, " **D** id she tell you how he died?" he asks, referring to your recently deceased friend, Randall.

" **N** ah, but I ain't dumb. He probably killed him and had her clean up the mess or some shit- Does it matter?" Daryl asks, his voice rough as he pulls a cigarette out of the front pocket of his vest.

" **N** o. No, I guess not." Paul looks down, his long hair floating freely around his face, hiding him away from the hunter's gaze, " **Y** ou think she's gonna be okay? I mean, did she- Did she seem, y'know, like-"

" **S** he'll pull through, she always fuckin' does. Toughest gal I know, she crawled out of worse, believe me." Daryl takes a long drag out of his cigarette, letting its poisonous smoke fill his lungs, " **H** ow d'you two even met anyways? Y'all seem pretty close." a soft scoff leaves Jesus' mouth at that, catching the hunter's attention, " **W** hat's so funny, Rovia?" he asks with a quirked up eyebrow.

Paul shuffles around on the spot he's sitting on, making dead leafs crack underneath his weight, and reaches around his back to try and grab something out of the back pocket of his pants before carefully pulling it out with an heavy yet soft sigh, " **H** er mom never liked me." Jesus starts, a bitter sweet smile on his lips, as he hands the polaroid picture he pulled out to Daryl, " **I** was super close to my brother growing up but- Well, you know, it changed when he met her and, well- The fact that she didn't like me didn't really help and, damn- I was there for her birth-" he looks over to his friend, finding shock, curiosity, confusion and something else he can't quite put his finger on covering Daryl's face, " **I** 've always wanted to be the cool, funny yet super wise uncle but I ended up being the absent, selfish uncle that only shows up once every year and only calls when he's finally willing to make time for his favorite girl. Fucking sucks by the way, don't recommend it." though he's still extremely confused, Jesus' words still get a small chuckle from Daryl.

" **S** he your niece?" the archer states more than he actually asks, getting a quiet nod from his friend, " **I** ain't never seen ya around her, never even heard of ya, man- How come?"

" **L** ike I said, I wasn't around like I should have- Like I've wanted to." he takes the picture back with a shaky hand when Daryl carefully hands it back to him, smiling down at the framed memory of your one year old self looking at freshly blown bubbles in awe, your eyes shinning with interest and wonder as to what the hell you're looking at, your baby's mind being blown by the laws of gravity, " **M** y brother wanted me to be part of her life as much as I did but, well, my dear sister in law didn't like the idea all that much, so- Well, she'd agreed to at least let me watch over her when they would go out on dates from time to time and- And then- Then she turned three, I was there at her birthday party- That's the last time I saw her, made her cry too when I left, like she knew it'll be the last day we'd spend together like that... Somehow."

" **W** hat d'you leave?" and there it is, the thing Paul couldn't put his finger on; it's anger. **Daryl is angry**.

" **I** uh- I got a job in NY and I couldn't really afford to decline the offer- Hell, it took me a while but, then, I figured it out, y'know?" he says, absently looking off into the distance, both men still hyper-aware of their surroundings, " **H** er mom? She just didn't want her to get too attached to me 'cause I was always moving around back then, she was just trying to protecting her but- I don't know, maybe that makes me a freaking psychopath but- It doesn't appease me, you know? She had good reasons, she was trying to protect her daughter from heartbreak, which I've still managed to put her through, but- I mean, I loved that little goofball."

Again, silence falls between the two men and, eventually, they both silently agree to get moving again, making their way back to Alexandria.

They stumble upon a few walkers on their way back home, taking turns to put them down, Daryl shooting an arrow through rotten skulls, Paul putting them out with a strong and effective kick, sometimes pulling knifes out to handle to more handsy ones but, all in all, the walk back is pretty much a breeze compared to other days.

" **H** ey," Daryl is the first to break the silence since they've left the woods, "m'sorry 'bout your brother, man."

" **D** on't go all mushy on me now, Dixon." Jesus jokes, trying to camouflage the emotions that have resurfaced after mentioning you and his brother.

" **S** hut up, smartass." the hunter gives him a strong yet playful punch to the shoulder, making the taller man laugh.

" **S** he didn't let me see her that night." Paul says, almost too quietly for Daryl to catch it but he does, loud and clear, " **S** aid I've already had caused her enough pain, that I didn't get to come crawling back now that something real bad had happened, that I should have been there before, when she was asking for her uncle."

" **F** uckin' bitch." Daryl mumbles bitterly, making his friend let out a breathy chuckle.

" **I** didn't- I couldn't just stand there and let her make a scene in the middle of the hospital so- I left. I left the second the doctors declared my brother dead, I couldn't- I couldn't stay, y'know? I got overwhelmed. Between the sound of the my brother's heartbeat turning into a flat line on that damn monitor and the insults his woman was spitting at me- I forgot [y/n] was in this shit storm as well, laying in a bed two rooms away from her dad's, shit hooked all over her, fighting for her life- I left her to wake up to her bitch of a mother and a stranger trying to explain to her that her dad was gone."

" **L** ook-" The hunter pauses as he aims his crossbow and firmly presses down on the trigger, the arrow going straight through the walker's walking towards him skull, the now lifeless body falling heavily on the concrete road before Daryl reaches it and pulls the arrow that belongs to him out of the rotten skull, pulling some flesh out with it, with a grunt.

He turns around to face his friend, absently whipping the arrow clean with the old handkerchief hanging from the waistband of his pants on his hip, " **Y** a shouldn't have left, t'was fuckin' stupid and selfish. I get it, must have been a lot of shit to take in but, just imagine how alone she must've felt when she woke up, man. Thing is, you can't take that shit back but, somehow, you've been lucky enough to get her back and, I mean, with the world bein' the way it is? What're the fuckin' odds of that, uh?" with a nod of his head, Daryl silently invites Jesus to get moving again before the two men end up attracting unwanted attention, " **M** e and Merle, we were there for her but, I mean, shit, neither of us were father material or nothin'. But we made due and she understood that, pretty sure she loved us that lil' bit more because she knew. She knew we had no fuckin' idea what the hell we were doin' but, shit, we sure were doin' somethin', y'know? We didn't want her to be alone, 'specially after her dad died and all- D'you know about- 'bout her mom? The shit she-"

" **I** 've got an itch, yeah." it's now Paul's turn to be angry. He's not stupid, he saw the anger in that woman's eyes that night and it wasn't the anger of a grieving woman, no, it was **pure hatred**.

There was hatred in her eyes, in her voice, her body language, when she looked at her little girl, something that made Paul sick to his stomach but what could he possibly have done to protect you against a threat no one would have seen because, after all, she was a poor grieving widow though Jesus is more inclined to call her a fucking psychopath if he's being honest.

" **Y** ou gotta make it right with her, man. You owe her that much, don't ya think?"

" **Y** eah but, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say? Hey, so, turns out the itch I had the night Negan brought you to Hilltop was actually right? Yup, I'm your loser of an uncle who's left you to deal with your asshole of a mother and to grieve your dad which, by the way, I know was your hero?" Paul asks, his voice condescending though he's clearly terrified and Daryl sees right through it.

" **H** ow 'bout you stop beatin' yourself up over shit you can't change and just come clean, uh? Man, believe me, you're better off tellin' her how it is rather than have her findin' out on her own 'cause she will kick your sorry ass and, believe me, you don't want that. She's a though cookie, borderline dangerous." Daryl says with a small smile to try and kill the tension floating around the air between the two men though he means every words and it seems to do the trick, pulling a genuine laugh out of Jesus, " **Y** ou ain't gotta do it alone, y'know? I could tag along, just in case she tries to punch ya in the throat- 'cause she does that, man, s'violent."

The two men share another laugh as they finally come to a stop right in front of Alexandria's gates, Daryl calling for Glenn to let them in.

" **T** hanks, Daryl, seriously. I really appreciate it." Jesus says as the gate opens in front of them, a smiling Glenn greeting them.

" **H** ey, look who's," the soon-to-be father stops to pull out and look down at the watch his father-in-lawn gave him, "oh, what a surprise! Three hours late."

" **D** on't make me punch ya, man . Maggie'll be mad at me and that woman isn't to be messed with, 'specially with all them hormones running wild and shit."

" **H** ey, watch how you talk about my wife's hormones, Dixon-" Glenn frowns at his own words, " **W** ait, no, that came out wrong. Do not talk about my wife's hormones, period."

" **D** eal." Daryl chuckles as he steps inside of the community he now isn't afraid to call his home, a laughing Glenn and smiling Jesus by his sides.

" **S** eriously though, I'm glad you got back home okay, man." Glenn says before patting his friend's shoulder, smiling at Paul and walking off to God knows where.

" **H** ow's Maggie doing, by the way?" Jesus asks, absently looking around the place.

" **S** he's good, we're keepin' an eye on her, makin' sure she's comfortable and safe which I'm pretty is gettin' on her nerves but, hey, begers can't be choosers."

They both walk through Alexandria, heading to the armory, the infirmary and the common pantry where they deposit today's finds, stopping to making chit-chat with a few people they come across whilst doing so.

As usual, Daryl shares the supplies with Jesus, almost threatening the poor man to take the damned things, insisting that they have to help each other out now that Negan is off Alexandrians' backs. His ultimate argument always being that that's what you'd want, for him do to the right thing and this definitely is the right thing to do.

" **H** ey, man- I meant that shit." Daryl quickly says, suddenly self-conscious now that he's showing gentleness.

" **Y** eah, I know, Daryl." Jesus reassures him, his arm hanging out through the open window of the driver's side of the car he drove here in, tilting his head up to look at his friend, " **A** nd, like I said, I really appreciate it. Seriously."

" **J** ust- Y'know, keep me posted and- We'll find a way to meet up with her and, y'know, talk to her- Okay?" Daryl insists before pushing himself away from the vehicle.

" **Y** eah, man, sounds good to me." Paul waves Daryl goodbye after thanking him for the day they've spent.

Alexandria's gates close with an heavy thump as soon as he rolls the window of his car back up. Daryl stands there, his mind working real hard to process all the information it's been given in the past thirty minutes or so, a smile breaking through his lips the second he hears Carol calling for him.

" **H** ey-" the grey haired woman stops, a small smile formed on her lips, " **Y** ou look like crap, pooky."

" **G** od damn, woman, rude much?"

" **D** on't be such a boy." she teases before turning her back to him, waving him off, " **A** nd go take a shower!"

" **Y** ou go take a shower since you love 'em so damn much!" he's about to walk off but stops one last time, " **H** ey, Carol, where's Rick at?"

" **H** e went out with Carl a few hours ago, sayin' he wanted to teach him how to play baseball." she says, her smile widening when she turns around to look at the hunter, " **I** think they both earned some time off, don't ya?"

" **N** ah, yeah, definitely." Daryl finally moves from his spot to walk up to Carol and throw an arm around her, immediately regretting his action when she winces the second his muscled arm comes in contact with her sore shoulders, " **S** orry- Damn it-" he tries and withdraw his arm put she's quick to get a hold of it to keep him from doing so.

" **S** 'okay, Daryl." she starts walking with the archer by her side, the two of them content but not putting it into words, they don't need to, " **I** think I'm gonna have to lay off the heavier guns for a little while- My shoulders are killing me."

" **W** hat's with you and big guns anyways? Y'got somethin' to compensate for, Peletier?"

" **Y** ou know, you're real cute when you're quiet too, Dixon." she teases with a smirk, playfully pushing him with her shoulder, making him laugh.

" **D** on't objectify me, I ain't just a pretty boy, y'know?" he says with mocked offense in his voice, making Carol laugh, the sound making him grin.

To feel loved, appreciated. For his company to be needed and craved by someone else, is something Daryl needs. Truth is, the first person who ever made Daryl feel special, needed, useful; was you.

There you were, just a little girl, a little girl who'd just lost her father, almost died with him, and was now left to deal with the hardships of life all on her own since her mother became one of said hardships yet you always had a smile for him.

He still remembers the day your dad sat down next to him on the stairs of his house's porch and oh so casually told him that he wanted **him** to be the one looking after you if something was to happen to him. Your own father didn't want his wife, the woman he loved and supposedly trusted with his entire being, but wanted **him** , of all people, to look after his little girl, his world.

And he did, though, legally, you were still under your mother's charge. He had no idea he could ever get so attached to anyone but you sort of burst into his life, slapped his insecurities and fears in the face with a chair and showed him that he needed to get his shit together, that there was nothing to be afraid of, that you were more than happy to spend time with him, to have him around, to have him teach you about all the things no one would've ever taught you in school.

You cared and loved him just as much as he did, you still do and so does he. After all, he'll always be the guy who'd scare boys away from you with his deadly glare, the one who'd punch the back of his big brother's head whenever he'd swear too much around you, the one who'd bargain his way out of making you do your homework and you'd always happily forget about them.

He'll always be the one who came running in sheer fear and panic the day you almost broke your damn knee when you've had the bright idea to try and go hunting all by yourself for the first time and quickly came to the conclusion that you were way too easily distracted to do so and that some more practice would be nice.

He remembers how angry he was that day, he got so damn scared and hearing you cry in pain only made his heart ache some more. That day was also the day you two got into your first argument which ended in tears on both sides and Daryl cuddling up with you in his bed, keeping you impossibly close to him as you both drifted off to sleep, afraid that something else might happen to you if he let go.

Yeah, no matter what happens, no matter who comes along, Daryl will always be **the** one and only person you trust **entirely** with your life, no questions asked, and the same goes for him.

You're both capable of trusting other people and, to some extend, you do. Daryl trusts his group, his family, with blind eyes and, as for you- Well, you trust Negan no matter how angry Daryl would be to hear it, you just do. You don't know why you would either, that's just how it is. But the way you two trust one another? It's special, **it's something else** , maybe even a little reckless and dangerous but neither of you ever questions it, you don't need to, **you're not scared of i** t, not one bit.

No matter how afraid of love you two are as separated individuals, you're not afraid of the overwhelming amount there is between the two of you, it numbs you in the best way. You'll die for Daryl Dixon and he will too with no second thoughts which, honestly, is pretty damn scary to think about.

 

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**10:00** **PM** **//**

" **D** amn it, Ryan, careful." is the first thing you hear as you slowly start to get out of your dazed state.

Your eyes weakly flutter open, your body completely stiff with pain and shock as you hear voices around you but none of them are familiar and the fact that they all sound drowned out all around you doesn't really help to identify who said voices belong to.

" **M** 'trying, the road's all fucked up! S'not my fucking fault." a man protests.

" **Y** ou two seriously need to get laid, s'ridiculous. Hilarious, for sure, but ridiculous." another teases.

" **H** ey-"

Right there and then, your eyes close shut again, leaving you unconscious once again, surrounded by strangers but you're too exhausted to care and, even if you wanted to, you couldn't bring yourself to look around and ask what the hell is going on because your body won't allow it.

 

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A sharp, intense pain and the need to throw up are the first things you feel when your eyes open from the second time, your body getting roughly pushed around and the sharp pain now getting to your head, quickly settling in and turning into a mean headache.

There's an ongoing conversation between whoever the people around you are, their voices still not familiar to you, your confusion making one hell of a mix with the sharp pain you're feeling and the emotional aftermath of the violence of the last couple of days you now have to deal with.

You cut their conversation short when your arm reaches out for something to hold onto and you come to the conclusion that you're in a moving car when it violently stops after the woman in the back with you announces that you're now awake, the sudden stop of the vehicle sending your body flying against the back of the driver's seat.

" **R** yan, what the hell do you not understand when I say "careful", fuck's sake!"

You ignore the pain throbbing through your whole body, your hand finally getting a grip on the car's door handle, pushing the heavy piece of metal open but you can't find the strength to actually get up and run out of the car. Instead, you drag yourself out, letting your body heavily fall on the hard ground outside of the vehicle, slightly lifting yourself up on your hands and knees before throwing your guts up, your gag reflex bringing tears to your eyes.

" **S** hit-" you hear one of the car's doors open, " **Y** ou two get inside and tell Astrid we need her over the infirmary." then there's loud noises, something heavy behind pushed open, probably a gate if you had to take a wild guess, and the sound of the car moving again.

Your throat is on fire from getting burned with the gastric acid you've been throwing up, your stomach aching, the lack of food getting to it by now. Your body is exhausted from the last couple of days as it never was able to catch a damn break.

There's a really strong after taste in your mouth after you're done puking your guts out, it's a strong taste of pure chemicals and that's when it hits you, **hard**.

Your body isn't just still trying to get rid of the drugs you've received less than twenty-four hours ago, it's reacting to getting dozed up again after four years of sobriety and you're now having withdraw symptoms. You didn't think that your system was still so close to relapsing, you had no idea whatsoever that it could happen to you again, at least, not that easily, not  **four**  years later.

" **H** ere," the man standing above you says, snapping you out of your thoughts, his hand out for you to grab, a sigh leaving his mouth when you look at him with narrowed eyes though, if he's being honest, he's not mad at you for it, he understands it.

He knows that you're probably completely lost as of right now and, judging by your looks, you clearly have your own good reasons not to trust people that easily, he gets it, " **L** ook, I'm not here to hurt you, alright? Just wanna help but you can't leave if you want. Hell, if you really believe that you can actually stand straight up and walk away, be my guest." he says, his voice challenging, as if he's trying to make it clear that he could have left your ass back there when you passed out and you have to fight the urge to give him a piece of your mind.

Instead, you take his words for what they are and push yourself up onto your legs though you don't even get to take a single step forward when they completely cave in and give out beneath you, almost making you fall but the stranger keeps you from hitting the ground, sighing, once again, at your stubbornness.

" **A** lright, tough girl, I get it. Point made. Congrats." he spits at you and if your mind was fully functioning right now, it'd be screaming at you to nail him in the balls.

A frustrated snarl shows up on your face, hardening your usually so soft features, and the sound leaving your mouth can only be described as the one a defeated puppy would make though you didn't mean for it to sound like that, not at all, you were more going for the whole "tiger about to eat your face and take a dump in your severed neck" kinda sound. Guess you just don't have it in you at the moment.

The man guides you inside what you assume to be a somewhat safely guarded community, making sure that his body is supporting yours as you're in no condition to walk by yourself, clearly, and the contact between you and this stranger does nothing to appease you, not at all.

Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you must admit that you're thankful for his support when your body suddenly gives up on you yet again, your legs wobbling beneath your weight before completely giving out.

" **H** ey, you with me? C'mon, kid, straighten up." the stranger says as you awkwardly try to push yourself off of his chest which you're now completely crushed against, your full body weight resting on him yet it doesn't seem to be enough to make the man flinch or lose his balance, not even a little bit, " **H** ere, lemme-" his hands are suddenly snaking down your body to go and grab your legs to securely lift you up but he doesn't get to do such a thing because you end up punching the living hell out of him, quickly getting away from him the second he stumbles backward.

" **D** on't you touch me!" you spit menacingly though there's tears filling your eyes and you're more than ready to cry your heart out yet again.

" **H** ey-" he goes to protest but, with a quick glance at you, the state you're in, the fact that you're only wearing a pair of panties and a stained t-shirt, reminds him that your reaction might actually come from a terribly dark place and is pretty damn normal, " **M** 'sorry.", his eyes soften though his body language is still tense, " **I** didn't mean to over-step, alright? I just wanted to help you out, s'all. You're in bad shape, kid-"

" **M** 'fine- Just- Just leave m-me be. P-Please." you try and sound harsh but your voice doesn't come out as strong and bossy as you wish it did, no, instead, it comes out as a tired, extremely vulnerable and fragile, shaky with sadness, whisper.

" **Y** ou can barely walk, kid." he says with a humorless chuckle.

" **W** h-what's it to you? You don't know me, you sh-should be glad I'm so eager to leave."

" **M** aybe," he says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "but it's the middle of the damn night, you can barely stand on your own two feet, you're clearly hurt. M'not fuckin' heartless, kiddo." his voice is so calm, his attitude so nonchalant, it makes your blood boil, " **A** nd I sure as shit ain't about to let you walk off to your death 'cause that's exactly what'll happen if you step outside those gates, you'll die in a matter of minutes." you're about to protest, to tell him that he doesn't even know the half of it but he cuts you before you can even open your mouth, " **I** t doesn't fucking matter how good you are out there, kid, with your body in the state it's in right now? You ain't gonna make it through the night and we both know it."

" **I** had a backpack-"

" **A** nd you'll get it back completely untouched, I promise. But we gotta get you checked out first, alright?"

" **W** h-why- I don't- Why do you c-care so much about- y'know, about getting me m-medical attention? Meds are r-really rare to come b-by these days why- why waste them on a complete stranger? I don't- I don't understand." your face has lost any sign of anger and is now back to its natural puppy-like nature, something that the stranger in front of you doesn't fail to notice, a small smile tugging at his lips at your soft features though there's a frown on his face because of your words.

" **S** 'like you said, things are going to shit, kid, and, I believe that, if you have the opportunity to help someone out? You should, plain and simple. Medicines might be a luxury nowadays but so are people, kiddo. Choosing supplies over people in need is survival one on one, s'not how we do things 'round here, it ain't livin', kid."

You can't help but scoff at that. People are no luxury, they're fucking _parasites_. On the other hand, that man has a point; **you're not living** , you never really did, you're just getting by, surviving.

For some reason, the thought makes your blood run cold because, though you've always been well aware of the fact that that's all your life's ever been; survival, it affects you to hear someone else say it out loud.

" **W** hatever." you whisper, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of this stranger, feeling like you've suddenly became bare to him, like he can read you like a damn book, " **C** an I have my stuff back? Please?" you find yourself struggling to push the world "please" out of your mouth, too irritated, angry and upset to be bothered with manners but, as it always does, your sweet personality catches up to you and you spit it out regardless.

" **L** ook," the man starts with an heavy sigh, like he's the one having a crappy day, "how 'bout that; you let our doc take a look at ya, she'll patch up whatever needs patching up, you get a good night of sleep and, tomorrow morning, if you still wanna run for the hills, I promise, I won't argue."

" **W** hy-" you have to pause to calm yourself down, to keep your head from turning into mush as it's boiling with frustration and exhaustion, " **W** hy do you care so much? Seriously, dude. J-just- Just let me go, alright? If me coming back to take your stuff is what you're worrying about, don't. I was out cold the whole way there, hell- I don't even know where the fuck we are, alright? Just let me be, I don't want nor need your charity!"

You try so hard to sound confident, to come off as cold and unaffected but, truth is; you're fucking terrified. Here you are, standing in front of this complete stranger, in a completely foreign environment, nothing familiar for you to get a grip on and the fact that your bruised, bloodied and severely injured body is practically bare for anyone to look at and judge is making you feel so damn small and vulnerable, you can't bear it.

You smell like blood, puke and sweat, you probably look like hell and you can't stand the fact that this man -and, really, anyone who'd lay eye on you- is probably able to see just how fragile you are right now. It irritates you because there's not a damn thing you can about it. You can't put your brave face on, not right now, not after the shit you've been forced through these past few days, you don't have the energy for that.

" **I** don't do charity, kid." he takes a careful step towards you, a sob ripping through you, not even giving you the chance to swallow it back down as it forces its way out of your throat, " **H** ey, it's okay, I promise. We ain't gonna hurt ya, alright?"

" **H** -heard that one b-before." you spit out with a sad smile on your shaky lips, trying your hardest to keep your calm facade up though it already fell apart a while back.

" **Y** eah, no shit." he answers calmly, a soft laugh following his words though there's no humor in it, " **I** can't- Look, I can't ask you to trust me but, you're gonna have to, at least a little bit."

" **W** hat if- What if I wanna leave tonight? What if I don't w-wanna spend the night here?"

" **W** ell," he gives you a small but genuine smile, "is that a challenge, kid?" a small laugh slips away from you, making the stranger's smile widen a little at the soft sound, " **Y** ou don't wanna make friends? S'fine by me, kiddo, but I ain't letting you wander off in the middle of the night, 'specially not after the crappy day you obviously had, alright?"

Tired and out of argument, you silently nod, your body exhausted and your mind a mess that you'll have to clear up tomorrow, just thinking about it makes you want to cry in frustration.

" **N** ame's August, by the way." he carefully puts his hand out for you to shake and you hesitantly take it, your whole body instinctively tensing at the contact before you're quickly snatching your hand away from his

"[ **Y** /n]." your voice is barely above a whisper but he still catches your name and nods with a small smile before stepping in front of you, silently leading you to what you assume to be the infirmary, not taking your hand to guide you along because he doesn't want to push his luck with you more than he already has.

You step after him into a pretty big room, the bright white lights illuminating it blinding you, making your eyes narrow and your head throb in pain, your headache punching you in the face and, if you could, you would punch it right back.

" **O** h my- what happened to that poor thing?" you hear a woman with a soft voice ask, concerned coating her voice, as your puffy and tired eyes slowly adjust to the white lights in the room.

" **I** don't know, ma." August admits as he helps you sit down on the medical table sitting on the middle of the freakishly white room, " **S** he's in bad shape though. She's bleeding, got some wounds but we don't know how serious they are, some mean lookin' bruises and cuts too." he explains, taking a few glances at you as he speaks to who you now assume to be his mother.

" **D** on't worry, honey." the woman says to you with a soft smile as she walks towards you, her son immediately tensing up and letting his hand rest on the gun tugged away against the front of his shirt in the waistband of his jeans, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to give him a reason to shot, hoping that you won't.

You're not bothered by his behavior, you get it. Yes, it irritates you but you get it none the less and, most importantly, you respect it. He's looking out for his family and you like to believe that you'd do the same if yours was still around, probably. Minutes pass and the woman silently inspects your body as you try your hardest to fight the urge to let yourself pass out once again, your head spinning with dizziness.

She carefully looks at every wounds, bruises, scraps and cuts marking your skin, looking for any potential internal bleeding and/or broken bones which she quickly finds much to her dismay and it would be to yours as well if you weren't already all too aware of how badly injured your body is, it doesn't take a doctor or a nurse to tell you about it.

You watch nervously as her eyes keep on going back and forth between your wounded wrists and ankles, sadness taking over her features and you have to fight the urge to run away when you understand that she may have put two and two together and realized what happened to you, what caused those wounds.

Good thing is that; she's just a stranger to you, you can shield yourself, at least a little bit, against her judgment though it still hurts and makes you uncomfortable that she might've put together what went down.

You'll never be able to do that, to keep your calm, if Negan was standing in her place, looking at your wounds as realization hit him. You can't even handle the mere thought of it, of him judging you, thinking negatively of you, looking at you with disgust and disappointment, you can't.

You're not trying to convince yourself that you can take those things from a stranger because, truth is, **you can't** , it'll hurt no matter who's in front of you but, Negan? It'd destroy you.

Thankfully, the woman doesn't comment on anything and simply gets to gently stitching the deep cut on your right brow bone, her son watching a few feet away, surprised by your calmness. He hates getting stitches, he can't keep himself from flinching and whining when he has to get some which is something his mother doesn't forget to mention as she works on the cut, making you smile a little and her son cringe in embarrassment.

She carefully, thoroughly disinfect the rest of your wounds, cleaning some of the blood off of your skin as she does and you wince in pain when she takes care of the still pretty damn fresh bullet wound on your right shoulder but you nod at her, silently letting her know that it's okay which you _don't_ do when she closely inspects and pats your left ribs making you flinch away from her.

The swollen skin there indicating you're most likely suffering from internal bleeding and it's formed an enormous bruise, the skin a deep, mean looking purple and blue, thin red veins showing through the dark colors.

The pain was so violent and sudden it made your ears ring and, once again, you passed out. The woman taking care of you catching your limp body and helping it lay down comfortably on the medical table.

" **S** he okay?" August asks, rushing to help her settle your body down.

" **Y** es, but-" she sighs as she tightly wraps a cuff around your arm to take your tension, "she needs to rest, to eat and drink." yet another sigh leaves the woman's lips when she reads the number on the medical tool and lets the cuff free your arm before taking in off, " **H** er tension is bad, Jay, and I can't tell if it's because of blood loss or pure stress, lack of sleep, hunger or thirst." she turns around to face her son, " **I** 'll check on her again tomorrow but, right now, she needs a good night sleep, alright?"

" **Y** eah, okay- Thanks, mom."

" **O** h, shush, I wasn't gonna let that poor girl like that, Jay." a soft sigh leaves the nurse's mouth, " **S** he looks so young, it's just- It's not right, to see such a young girl in the state she's in. Poor thing, she had a whole life ahead of her."

" **W** e all did, mom, but- I get your point."

" **D** o me a favor?" her son hums at that, showing she has his attention, " **D** on't play the big bad wolf with her, Jay, she's just a kid."

" **M** om-" he lets a tired sigh out, "you should go and get some rest, dad's gonna kick both our asses if he finds out I had you working in the middle of the night." Astrid laughs out at his words.

" **W** hat a cruel leader you are." she teasingly jokes with a small smirk.

" **I** know, right?" he lets out a small chuckle, allowing himself to relax a little, " **I** 'm disgusting."

" **Y** eah, you are." Astrid teases before kissing one of his cheeks, " **B** ut that's okay, you clean up real nice."

" **I** love you, y'know that, right?"

" **I** know, Jay. I love you too, so does your father and so does Robin."

" **I** dunno about that, mom. I feel like I'm never here when she needs me-"

" **A** ugust," his mother scolds, making him cringe as she uses his real name instead of his usual nickname, "you're her hero. She understands why you're not always there, she does. She's a smart one and she knows that her father is just trying to keep her as safe and happy as possible. Stop beating yourself up like that, you always make time for her and that's all that matters to her, really." there's a small silence and, though you can't see nor feel it because you're out cold, Jay's eyes land on you, his mother's following.

" **W** e found her like that, just- In her underwear and a dirty t-shirt, I don't- I'm trying to tell myself that she might just have been in a freak accident and she somehow- Fuck, I mean- Shit. What kind of sick son of a bitch-"

" **Y** eah." Astrid pauses and looks up at her son's face, spotting what looks like a mix of guilt and anger in his eyes, " **W** hat a twisted world we live in- God, she looks so out of place, just look at her-" she pauses to look at her son who's now smiling down at her, " **I** 'm just saying, s'all."

Jay hugs his mother goodnight and lets her leave the room before sitting in the big chair next to the medical table where your unconscious body is still laying, your breathing calm and steady, and he takes a good look at you for the first time since he's met you.

His mother has always been one to find purity in the oddest places, people are no exception. He's not too sure how he feels about it all, he can't really be bothered nowadays but, looking at you now, he can't help but let out a quiet " _son of a bitch_ " under his breath as he takes you in.

You're laying there, covered in blood, wounds and bruises yet there's definitely something- Appeasing? About your presence, about how gentle and peaceful you look, even when you were glaring at him when he offered you his hand. Hell, even when you fucking punched him right in the cheek, a bruise already forming on the skin there, you didn't come off as cold or even close to being a bad person, you just came out as- Lost and afraid.

Hurt, vulnerable, lost but, most importantly, past all the pain, there's clear kindness in your eyes, in your movements. Kindness he's never really expected from anyone, especially nowadays.

He knows that he has to deny that part of him, his paternal instincts, that wants nothing but snuggle you and tell you that it'll be okay. He can't do that, not when his little girl's safety as well as his parents' depend on him. He has responsibilities, people to look after.

He tries his hardest to tell himself that he can't make a difference between you and other people he brings in from time to time but, truth is, there is a difference, a fucking huge one at that.

His will is completely crushed when he sees your eyes slowly opening, your pupils reacting to the blinding lights in the room, a soft mewl leaving your mouth as you try to sit up by yourself. He knows he might be fucked the second he rushes towards you to help you sit on the table and he then _knows_ _for a fact_ that he most **definitely** is a hundred percent fucked when he spots tears silently rolling down your face and the first thing he does is wipe them away with his thumbs, his hands framing your face.

He feels his heart aching and his chest tightening as he fights the urge, his father's instincts, to tell you that it's okay, that you're safe, trying his hardest not to cross any more lines than he already has in the past three seconds.

Your heart is beating really slowly, your lungs, throat and stomach still taking their time to relax and fully open again, your wrists and ankles throbbing as the rest of your body just gets sharp shots of electricity from time to time, the pain barely bearable. You need rest, badly.

" **H** ow you feelin', kid?" you hear the man holding your face say and you force your eyes up to look at him, your vision completely blocked by hot tears.

" **I** uh- M'okay." then there's a long silence, an heavy one, filled with doubt, tension from being strangers to one another.

" **Y** ou uh- You remember what happened? Where you are?"

" **Y** -yeah- Yeah but I-I d-don't- I don't re-really remember anything else, I just- I know I p-passed out and-and then- I don't know, I-I'm sorry."

" **D** on't apologize, kid. You remember your name?"

" **Y** -yeah." you simply say, " **M** 's-sorry." you whisper, tears falling off your face to land on the floor beneath your dangling feet.

You feel lost, the only clear thing on your mind is the need you have for Negan to be right here, with you, his absence hurting you just as much as your physical injuries. You feel like a lost puppy without him around, it feels wrong not having him nea, " **Y** ou don't n-need to worry a-about me being a problem. I'll be g-gone by dawn, promise." you choke out, trying to calm yourself down, to stop shaking so damn much.

" **A** lright then." he doesn't insist on you sticking around, suspecting that his paternal instincts might be the reason why he feels like you leaving so soon is stupid and reckless but, deep down, he knows that's not all there is so he just tries and tell himself that this is for the best for both of you.

His hands carefully, almost hesitantly, slip away from your face and your head immediately drops down, your eyes focusing on your sore bare feet, " **C** 'mon, let's go get you some rest, kid."

 

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﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

" **S** 'not much but-"

" **I** t's- It's more than enough." you quietly say before turning around to look at him, " **T** h-thank you, August."

The two of you just stand in the middle of the small, cozy house you'll be spending your night in and, sincerely, you love it here. The house a giant open space, the floor is all shiny wood, there's a big, white, fuzzy carpet covering most of the living room which contains a couch filled with pillows and an extremely comfortable looking fuzzy brown throw blanket, a fireplace and a few pieces of wood waiting to be consumed by a warm fire, there's also a really clean bathroom, warm water, electricity and  an open kitchen with an island sitting in the middle and the last room is a seriously cozy bedroom.

The whole house is colored in warm fall tones, there even is fairy lights right above the chimney in the living room and it all kinda makes you feel like having a hot cocoa and snuggle between a bunch of warm blankets until you fall asleep, this place that's completely foreign to you somewhat feels so safe and welcoming, it's a welcome change from the Sanctuary and what you're used in the outside world.

As you're standing there, your eyes scanning your surroundings, avoiding eye contact with August as much as possible, you finally take a small moment to take the man in front of you in, your eyes scanning him from head to toe.

He's ridiculously tall, easily above six foot, he's wearing a white under-shirt with an open red and black button up flannel on top of it, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's also wearing a pair of black ripped and clearly over-used jeans and a pair of black combat boots which almost look like yours.

The defined muscles covering his chest are showing through the fabric of the thin white t-shirt and his flannel is clinging to his impressively muscled upper-arms, the deep and light colored and black ink covering both of his forearms contrasting really nicely with his toffee skin tone. You also notice that he's wearing an engagement ring before directing your attention to his face.

His hair are a dark black, done in long dreadlocks which he wears into a pretty bun on top of his head. His eyes are a breath taking light hazel and he has a really cleanly cut thin beard covering his just as impressively cut jaw, it's too thick to be considered a stubble but too thin to be considered a full on beard, it's a really nice in-between.

Your eyes quickly snap away from him when his eyes meet yours, a small smile on his lips, your cheeks burning at the fact that you've been starting at him for probably way too freaking long and he probably just stood there wondering what the hell's wrong with you.

" **W** ell I- I guess I'll leave you to it and- well, goodnight. M'around if you need anything."

" **O** kay, y-yeah. Thank you." you whisper, shyly looking down at your bare feet whilst pulling on your fingers.

God, you need a shower so bad, you smell like puke and sweat. Your whole body is sore and throbbing in pain and discomfort, clearly still fighting through the after-shock of the assault you've fallen victim of all whilst also trying to find a way to eliminate the residues of drugs still present in your system.

" **M** y mom said- She said you looked out of place." August says as he stops right in front of the small house's front door, a small, gentle smile on his lips when he turns around to look back at you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

He pauses, longingly looking at you, almost as if he's somehow seeing how that could actually be true before continuing, " **I** 'm sorry, s'all. You don't have to talk for me to see that you've been through some terrible shit, s'on your face, in your eyes- I mean, it's not all there is but, y'know, it shows. The eyes are the windows of the soul and all that crap." he says with a small laugh, getting a light giggle out of you in the process, " **Y** ou're not what you've been through and I don't need to wait and see for myself to know that." he finishes as you finally lift your head back up to look at him.

" **H** ow-How can you b-be so sure? I mean- S'quite dangerous and reckless for a stranger to make such a big assumption." you ask, curious to know what pushes him to think such a thing, after all, he doesn't know shit about you nor what you're capable of, the things you've had to do to simply keep on breathing.

" **I** f you were, you would have killed me when you first saw me." he says matter-of-factly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, " **P** lus, I just have a feeling about you. Y'know, you intrigue me, there's something really reassuring about your presence, you've got that- How I can I put it?" he asks himself, your curiosity almost making you forget just how tired you are, " **Y** ou look like the sweetest thing in the world, clearly got a lot of shit on your mind but you clearly have a good heart though- let's just say that I wouldn't want to be the poor bastard that'd mess with the people you love and I mean no offense by that, at all."

" **N** one taken." you whisper almost as if you didn't want him to hear for some reason, " **W** hat if the only reason I didn't try to take you down was because I was too tired and out of it to actually get the chance to do so?" you ask, feeling like you have to make a point for him not to underestimate you and he lets out a somewhat nervous chuckle at that.

" **W** ell then, I guess it's a good thing you passed out on us, uh?" you let out a small amused huff and his words, making him smile slightly, " **A** lright then-"

" **I** wasn't-" you interrupt him as he was about to turn back around and walk out of the house, " **I** w-wouldn't have hurt you, you know. A-and I still don't feel the need to, I only hurt people who give me a reason t-to do so, I don't- I can't just- I don't do things like that, y'know? I don't just- go and kill people for the hell of it, I can't-" you look at him, nervously pulling at the hem of your dirty t-shirt, " **I** just- I don't- I've done bad things, a bunch o-of 'em even and- as much as I want to, I can't t-take them back, I can't- I can't bring those people back and- then there's the ones I can't bring myself to feel sorry about, I just can't. And if that makes me a heartless bitch then so be it, I don't mind."

" **Y** ou do what you gotta do, I get that- I respect that." he lets out a small sigh, " **L** ook-" he hesitates for a minute, looking at you, taking in your bloody and wounded body, " **I** talk a lot of shit but- I don't- I was serious when I said that you should get a good night of sleep before deciding what your next move's gonna be." is his way of telling you that he thinks your decision to leave at dawn is too risky for both your mental and physical health without really having to say it because, after all, not only is it your own decision to make but also because you're a stranger to him, to the people he looks after, and he shouldn't be so keen on you sticking around.

" **N** o offense but- Why d-do you care?" you ask him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, " **I** mean- We're nothing to one another and, after today, I owe you big time, I know that but-"

" **I** t's not about you repaying us if that's what you're implying, I don't give a damn about that. I don't help people to then use it against them, what kind of fucked up person does that?"

" **T** he people I live with-" you freeze and shyly look at up him, your eyes glistened with tears, " **T** hey do it- all the time." you whisper, feeling ashamed, as if their actions also represent who you are though you're  **far** from being like any of them.

" **S** ounds like you could use a change of scenery, kiddo."

" **Y** -yeah, tell me about it." you painfully laugh, " **I** t's just- I try-" a tear rolls down your cheek but you're quick to wipe it right off though August already saw it, it's more for you than it is for him. You honestly couldn't care less about looking vulnerable in front of this man anymore, you're too tired and can't be bothered, " **E** very time- Every time I try and-and find something good, something just a little brighter than what I'm used to- It just- It's all so dark out there, you know? It's just- It's so ugly and- empty."

Once again, because of the fact that you're a stranger to him as he is to you, he finds himself stuck, looking for the right words to say but, because he doesn't know you, he has no clue as to what he could say to make you feel at least a little bit better. So, in an attempt not to make things awkward after you've finally decided to let him see the tiniest bit of yourself, he softly changes the subject, knowing damn well that you don't need a stranger to shove his nose where it doesn't belong especially when said stranger is completely clueless as to how he should even act around you.

" **Y** ou uh- The bedroom's at the end of the corridor and- Yeah, you already knew that- I already gave you the tour..." he scratches the back of his head nervously at his terribly clumsy attempt to change the subject but it makes you laugh a little so he doesn't really consider it a complete fail, " **S** orry."

" **I** t's okay." you nervously pinch the back of your left hand between your nails, leaving deep crescent marks in the soft skin, before looking at him, " **T** hank you, for everything. I mean it- If- If you need anything- I'm your gal."

" **Y** ou don't owe me or anyone here anything, kid-"

" **Y** es, I do. Medical supplies are really hard to come by these days, August and- You've decided to waste some on me so- Please, just- Let me know if I can get you anything, alright? Please, that's the least I can do."

He stands there for a few seconds, his brain trying to let the fact that you've just said out loud that cleaning your wounds, stitching you up was medical supplies gone to "waste" because they've been used on **you** sink in but he seems to have a hard time treating the information. He can't help it.

He can't help but picture his little girl speaking like you do, falling so low that she wouldn't care about her well being anymore and it scares the shit out of him to even consider that her mental health might, some day, decline in the sightliest. It's not even all about his daughter, the one thing he loves more than anything or anyone else. It's about him standing there, listening to such a young girl talk to him with sheer fear, guilt and even disgust shinning through her voice and eyes, her body beaten and bloody.

Said girl is so much younger than him yet, he can't help but feel like she's already lived twenty freaking lives and none of them treated her well so, now, she's stuck here, forced to deal with the aftermath of it all and it seems to be crushing her, even the stranger he is to you can see it.

" **I** f-" he starts hesitantly, knowing that he's about to walk on some real fucking thin ice right now, all whilst staring down at the door's knob, ready to walk out as soon as his words will have left his mouth, " **I** f you need to talk- Y'know, one stranger to another- If you need to let some steam off, to talk some shit through with someone neutral, someone you don't know and doesn't know you either- I'm here, kiddo." he then proceeds to leave the house, closing the door behind him, leaving you standing there, unsure of what to do with your hands.

" **O** ne stranger to another." you whisper, repeating his exact words, finding them somewhat reassuring, almost appeasing.

You make your way to the big couch in the living room, eyeing your backpack leaning against the empty chimney, your bow sticking out of the denim bag. He left you your weapons which means that he's either really stupid and reckless or that he knows he'll be able to kill you the second you'd dare to look at him the wrong way and, honestly, you suspect it might be a mix of both but you're thankful that your weapons have been left untouched, the reason why doesn't really fucking matter to you at the moment.

You lay down on the comfortable couch, your head hitting one of the plushy pillows there and you shimmy down a little bit, trying to get as comfortable as possible as you lay on your right side, your eyes intently watching the lack of a fire in the fireplace and the soft, unfoced white fairy lights in your peripheral vision.

Your whole body is aching in pain, your mind still dizzy and a little loopy from the drugs you've been administered God knows how many times for a day and a half straight, your body still reacting to them, especially to them slowly disappearing from your system and you know that you'll be waking up in cold sweat, shaking and ready to throw up tomorrow morning when withdraw symptoms will really start to hit you hard and, you have to admit, you're not looking forward to that, not one bit. You're actually terrified of feeling that way again, it's been so damn long yet you remember just how painful and uncomfortable it is.

You shakily grab the fluffy blanket sitting on the couch and cover your shivering, tired body with it, a please sigh leaving your mouth at the softness and warmth of the brown blanket and you nuzzle into it as you bring your legs up for your knees to rest against your belly.

There's no telling when exactly you feel asleep, all you know is that, when you did; Daryl, Jesus and even Negan were on your mind, wondering what they're up to, if they're okay. God, let them be okay.

 

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 **FLASHBACK** **//**   **TEN Y/O OFC** **// FIVE YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK //**

It's official, until today, on the seventh of this month of November; Daryl Dixon has never, **ever** , heard anything as heart-wrenching as your cries and pleads. Worst part? He can't do a damn thing to make it all stop, no, he actually has to push you through it. What an asshole.

" **D** aryl! Please, please, make it stop! Make it stop!" your cracked sobs shove him right back to reality. A reality in which you're laying on his very own bed, your little hands fisting his sheets in a white-knuckled grip, your face soaked in tears, your nose full and running and the bullet wound in your belly bleeding worryingly so.

He wishes he could put his hands away, hands which are now covered in your blood, not helping his heartache one bit, and swipe you into his arms to take you away from his big brother who's currently working on carefully taking the damned bullet out of your body as Daryl is keeping the wound wide open, giving the older Dixon room to work and to, hopefully, make the whole process a little less painful than it has to be for you.

Though, clearly, it's not working the way they hoped it would, not at all, judging by your cries and pleads for them to stop doing what they're doing as well as the constant flinches of your body as it desperately tries to get away from the source of its pain; them.

" **H** ow?" Merle barks though he somehow manages to stay gentle as he works on your wound, " **H** ow the fuck are you so fuckin' stupid?! How the fuck do you shoot a lil' girl you fuckin' dickface?!"

" **I** -I told you! I didn't mean to, alright?! I-" his friend, Rufus tries to defend himself as he looks on from the bedroom's threshold.

" **A** lright!? Alright?! Are you fucking kidding me? You gotta be! You were fuckin' high you dumb bag of shit!"

" **M** erle!" it's now Daryl's turn to bark, successfully getting his brother's attention, " **I** get it, man, I do, but, right now, you gotta shut up and finish what you're doing, alright? She's in pain, man, c'mon." the younger Dixon's voice softens and Merle's eyes immediately do too when they land on you, wiggling around in his brother's grip, trying to break free as sobs keep pushing their way past your lips.

With a quick nod between the two brothers, Merle gets back to work, his jaw trying to close tighter than is physically possible when your back arches off the bed and a shaky sob rips through you when he finally gets the goddamned bullet out of it's hiding spot, guilt and relief washing over the men tending to your wound.

You're in pain, that much is pretty damn obvious. Yet, when Daryl announces you as softly as he can as they're not done yet, that they still have to stitch you up, you put your brave face on, hold your breath, and quickly nod your head.

The two brothers should have been reassured by your calmness but it only made a fresh wave of guilt wash over them. They know that face, the "I'm fine because I have to be." face that you seem to be oh so fond of, they're not though.

Daryl is the one doing the stitching so Merle stays right next to you, one hand on your stomach, holding you still, as he tries his damndest not to get up and punch the life out of his friend. Friend he thought was good to go hunting with the two of you. Turns out, he was was high and slightly drunk and got startled when he heard a tree's branch breaking beneath his own damn foot, his finger stupidly laying on the trigger of his riffle pushed down on it when his body reacted to the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Neither him nor Merle realized that he'd managed to shoot you until they heard you calling and crying for Merle, your small hands pushing down on your belly. Horror taking over Merle's feature when he pushed your hands away and blood started to pour out of your body, anger showing up to the party when it hit him; you just got shot because he, for the first time, agreed to take someone else with you on your weekly training hunts, the only moment you two get to spend together, just the two of you. And he went out of his way to bring someone else along and it got you hurt, real bad.

" **H** ey, pumpkin, shh, it's okay- S'okay, it's gone, s'all gone." Merle coos, his free hand cupping your cheek and his thumb absently wiping your ongoing tears away, " **Y** ou did so well, m'so damn proud o'ya. Shh, I know pumpkin, I know. I'm sorry." Daryl watches as his big brother lets his soft side fully come out, hushing you, trying his best to calm you down.

That's something only you ever managed to do, to pull gentleness out of Merle Dixon, even he gets grossed out when he realizes just how mushy he gets around you but he can't help it.

" **D** on't-Don't c-call me p-pumpkin." you protest, the nickname making your cheeks red, not used to anyone but your father giving you pet names which is why Merle takes a twisted pleasure in doing so.

" **O** r what? Ya think you can take me right now, pumpkin?" he teases, earning a giggle which is quickly choked out by a wince of pain as the needle Daryl is working on your wound pierces through your skin again, " **H** ey-"

" **D** -don't think I won't k-kick your butt, Merle. 'C-cause I will, st-stitches or not."

" **O** h, I know, pumpkin. Tell ya what, y'get through this shit and I'll let ya punch the livin' shit outta me." is Merle's way of telling you that he's sorry for getting you hurt like that, his way of admitting guilt and, yes, you're young and you shouldn't see through it but you do, loud and clear.

" **P** ff, y-yeah right-" a high-pitched yelp of pain escapes you as Daryl works on the lower, most sensitive part of your wound, "you k-know I wo-won't. Y-you bruise like a-a peach, Dixon. M'not a m-monster."

Your words get a small chuckle out of the two Dixons. The sensitivity and fragility of your skin and body became a little bit of a joke between the three of you as the two brothers quickly understood that your condition was something you're somewhat embarrassed about.

The whole thing being something you can now laugh about is what helps you cope with it better, they don't give you weird looks when you flinch whenever something or someone barely even grazes your skin, they don't judge you nor make fun of you for it, at least, not in a mean way, they would never purposefully hurt you, ever. It's always nothing but friendly teasing.

A good hour has passed and you're still out cold on the Dixons' couch, the brothers moved you after you've passed out when Daryl had finally finished stitching your wound, exhaustion getting a firm grip on you and dragging you into unconsciousness.

Daryl said it'd be best to move you from his now bloodied bed and they've both decided to put you on the couch whilst he changed his bed sheets and the older Dixon got busy kicking his friend's ass before throwing him out of the house, anger pumping through his system so he'd decided to do what he does best in this type of scenario, where his emotions suddenly show up and get involved; he took off on his bike.

Two hours later, you wake up, your small body curled up in-between Daryl's opened legs, your head on his stomach and his hands protectively wrapped around you, coming together to rest on your back. You flinch and silently whine when the fresh bullet wound wake up along with the rest of your body, the soreness of the tender skin and muscles more uncomfortable than it is painful but you're still in shock about what happened and it seems as your body is as well, unsure of what to feel.

" **H** ey, [y/n]. How you doin', princess?" Daryl's voice is rough with sleep and it makes you smile a little against his chest.

" **M** 'okay, just a little sore is all." there's a small silence as you take a moment to appreciate the warmth the man laying beneath you is giving you, " **T** hank you, Daryl."

" **N** ah, you ain't gotta thank me, [y/n]. You're my girl, I got your back, y'know that."

" **A** nd I got yours, always. 'Cause your my man." you whisper against his t-shirt, a shiver violently rocking your body, fatigue making your body extremely cold, which the hunter is quick to notice and, just like that, he grabs the back of your thighs, stands up with you tightly wrapped against his body and quickly gets back on the bed but beneath the blankets this time around, his hands rubbing your back as he drags you a little bit more up on his body, your head now resting on his chest instead of his stomach.

" **B** etter?" he asks once you've both settled under the blankets.

" **Y** -yeah, thank you." you hesitate a little before swallowing your nerves down and pushing the words out of your mouth, " **D** aryl?" he hums, letting you know he's listening, " **A** re you- Is Merle mad at me?"

" **W** hat?" he pushes his head back to try and look at you but your head is resting on its right side on his chest, looking away from him, "[ **Y** /n], look at me." and you do, worry and pain in your eyes, " **Y** ou kiddin', right? Princess," he pushes slightly up on his elbows so that he's still laying down but he now has a clearer view of you as he speaks, " **W** hy would he be mad at'cha? You got shot, princess. Not him, not me, you. He ain't got no reason to be mad at ya, alright? He's just- Well, he's Merle."

" **Y** eah, but-"

" **B** ut nothin', Merle'll be back when he'll have decided to stop bein' a lil' bitch. 'Til then, you get some rest and stop worrying 'bout shit you shouldn't even be thinkin' about, alright?" his voice is firm but not angry and you give him a nod before taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, letting his heartbeat relax you.

" **W** ho ya callin' a lil' bitch, sweet cheeks?" Merle's voice booms through the room making you and his brother jump though you're quick to giggle at the nickname he's used for his little brother, " **M** ove over, ya fuckin' losers." he says with a smirk as he approaches Daryl's bed before jumping on it, making the headboard hit the wall behind it and the mattress bounce around, making you laugh into the younger Dixon's chest, " **H** ey, how you doin', pumpkin?" he asks, looking at you as he lays on the bed right next to his brother.

" **I** 'm fine. Are you?"

" **Y** ou worried 'bout me, doll? Last time I checked, you're the one who got shot today, not me. S'real fuckin' cute and all but, don't worry about me, I'm all good." a comfortable silence covers the youngest Dixon's bedroom, everyone ready to pass out on the mattress right there and then but a broken cry from Merle breaks the haze when you decide to punch him in the shoulder, not moving off of Daryl as you do, " **O** w! What the holy hell, pumpkin! **W** hat's that for?!" he asks, rubbing his shoulder.

" **Y** ou gave me a freebie earlier, so, there, s'done."

" **H** ey, what happened to not bruising my amazin' skin, doll?" he chuckles as he recalls him clearly giving you the permission to punch the living hell out of him.

" **M** eh, at least, now, we'll both have a bruise to show, uh?" you giggle, letting your face rest against Daryl's chest again. 

 " **W** ell then," Merle wickedly eye his still laughing younger brother, "in that case, let's all be bruised and tired, yeah, Daryl?" the hunter's laughter suddenly stops as he glares down at his brother.

" **D** on't ya fuckin' dare, Dixon-" he barely gets the words out when Merle punches him in the shoulder, making in grunt in annoyance and pain, " **I** fuckin' hate ya." he spits but his bitterness turns into amusement when he feels your body shaking with laughter against his and, eventually, your giggles make themselves audible to the two brothers, making them smile and chuckle along with you.

Merle is the first one to pass out, you following right on his heels and Daryl barely gets enough time to take a look at you when sleep consumes him as well, his hands still tightly wrapped around you under the blankets, keeping you warm and safe.

At such a young age, you shouldn't know the pain of getting shot by some random, drugged up dude in the woods. Truth be told, you should probably be with your mother right now not growing up without her when she's still right here, alive. But this, this right here, is your **home**.

Merle and Daryl passed out a bed alongside with you, the three of you sore, bruised and exhausted is a pretty damn common way to end the day whenever you're with them and you wouldn't have it any other way, no matter how unusual it might be, this is how you love things to be.

This is where you feel safe, loved, cared for; at home. No doubt on your mind, life without those two would be pretty damn pointless.

 

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You can't go back to Negan, not after what happened, he'll never forgive you, he'll think you're gross, he'll be mad at you, he'll never want to see, talk or touch you ever again, he's gonna be so fucking angry. You can't let him know, he can never know but if you do go back to him, his flirty ways will probably make you extremely uncomfortable and distressed or, at the very least, make you extremely nervous and then he'll know because you'll feel like you owe it to him to let him know what happened and he'll be mad at you, he'll be disgusted and-

Your erratic thoughts are cut short once again as your upper body lunches forward, bile coming out of your mouth, burning your throat on its way up, to then land into the toilet right below your head, your knuckles whites from holding the sides of the white porcelain so tightly, your eyes teary because of your gag reflex being all over the place. All in all, you're just thankful that your hair are short now so you don't need to hold them out of the way because that'll only be another thing you can't be bothered with at the moment.

You're shaking like a leaf as your body begs for you to give it another doze of whatever it has received yesterday, or maybe it was two days ago now? You don't even know what happened when anymore, you're lost- lost and confused... and puking your guts out, s'worth mentioning.

" **G** ood God." you whisper, your voice rough after hours on ends of throwing up, as you flush what came out of your stomach down the toilet before crawling away from it, your hands dragging you away on the floor, your butt never leaving the cold tiles covering it but the coldness came to numb your bare skin by now.

Your knees are a bright red from you staying too long down on them while you were puking your guts out. You've been up for two hours now, you woke up a trembling and sweating mess, your already filthy t-shirt clinging to your soaked skin and you've had to rush to the bathroom when you felt your stomach screaming at you to run for dear life and give it something to empty itself into because it couldn't hold it any longer.

Two hours, two long exhausting hours, have now passed and you've finally found relief. Your body isn't shaking as much anymore, it is still but it's only because of your extremely tense state, your fatigue and your hunger but, your withdraw symptoms are finally disappearing.

You're not sweating anymore though you are now bathing in said sweat and, thank God, you're pretty sure you're done throwing up for the next two years of your life, you've earned a freaking break in that department and it is **not** up for debate.

" **H** ey, kiddo, you doin' okay in there?" August's voice makes you jump, almost making you bump your head on the counter top you're sitting under, "[ **Y** /n]?" you hear his footsteps getting closer to the bathroom by the second when you finally gather your thoughts.

" **Y** -yeah- Yeah, I uh- I'm fine." you say, coughing, your throat burning from the constant throwing up it's been put through these past two hours.

August's tall frame appears in the small bathroom and his eyes almost immediately fall on your shaking body, all curled up into a ball against the counter where the sink is.

" **H** ey, are you-" he stops in his tracks, his eyes narrowing at you for a quick minute, " **S** hit- Please, don't tell me you got bi-"

" **N** -no, no, m'not bit, August. I just- I woke up sick, s'all." you say, only giving him the information you're willing to give him and he knows that there's more to it than just you waking up sick but he doesn't push it too much as he already feels bad about assuming the worst when his eyes first landed on you.

" **C** an I get ya anythin'?" he asks as he carefully crouches down in front of you but you shake your head no at him as you struggle to keep your eyes open, exhaustion catching up to you, " **H** ey," he extremely carefully reaches out to you with a single hand, putting it just as carefully, his eyes never leaving yours, underneath your left armpit, and you flinch at the contact, "that okay?" he asks, watching your face for any signs of panic and, when you shyly nod your head at him, he carefully snakes his other hand right behind your knee caps to then swiftly lift you up, making it seem effortless, like your weight is nonexistent.

You almost expect him to say something stupid like Negan does whenever he carries you bridal style around the place but, yeah- He's not Negan, there's only of one him.

 _thank god_.

August carefully sits you down on the couch, kneeling in front of you to take a look at you as you still struggle to catch your breath and to calm yourself down.

" **Y** 'know," he starts with a small, friendly laugh, "I get it. Hell, I can't even remember how many times I've been through relapse circles, it sucks."

You look up at him, curiosity in your eyes but also compassion, a whole lot of that. Looking at him, you wouldn't really be able to tell he used to be hooked on any kind of substance, he looks so... Clean and healthy. But you're also curious as to how he figured out that your state is somewhat related to drugs.

" **S** 'not- S'not what this is, it's just- I dunno- I mean, I've relapsed too but- This isn't it."

" **W** ithdraws?" he simply asks and you simply nod your head, not really feeling like talking about it, " **Y** ou were dozed up? Yesterday, when we found. That why you passed out? You've had some kind of light overdose?"

" **N** -no- I mean- Y-yes but- It's not- It's not what kno-knocked me out- I d-don't think- I dunno."

" **W** hat d'you take, kiddo? Must have been strong whatever it was," he says as he carefully traces the veins showing way too clearly through the delicate skin of your forearms, "your skin looks paper thin." he then looks up at you, waiting for you to say something, anything.

" **I** \- I'm n-not sure what it w-was." your head drops down as the fresh memories of yesterday start to play right in front of your eyes over and over again, you can almost feel the syringe digging into your flesh, the substance in it burning as it poisoned your blood and intoxicated you against your will.

" **Y** ou need anything? Anythin' at all?"

" **Y** ou uh-" you're about to ask him for something to help with your raging headache but decide against it afterwards, not wanting to add to the list of things those people wasted on you already, " **A** s-shower, I just- I'll be better after a good shower. I reek, s'terrible." you force out with a terribly forced giggle.

" **A** lright." August lets out a sigh, unsure of what to make of the information he's just received, " **I** 'll uh- I'll leave ya to it then, kiddo." you're too busy avoiding eye contact with him to realize that his eyes are scanning your bare forearms, taking in the few swollen veins pushing against your skin as well as the marks that the drug filled syringe left behind. Marks which you haven't even noticed yet, you don't even recall that man injecting the product into your arms. You remember him injecting through your belly but not your arms.

After letting out yet another sigh, August gets back up and silently leaves the small house, leaving you to your own devices. You let yourself sink further into the comfortable couch and swallow a few tears back, your brain unable to treat every single emotions going through you all at once and you quickly find yourself to be overwhelmed, yet again.

You gather enough strength to get up off the couch with an annoyed grunt and drag yourself back the bathroom, annoyingly dragging your feet on the floor to stay in what seems to be today's big mood; **annoyance**.

Even beneath warm water, you can't seem to be able to relax. Your jaw is clenched, your teeth clinging to each other, your shoulders tensed like the string of a loaded bow and your fresh wounds, cuts and bruises are making themselves known with violent throbs. Your entire body is sore, making every single one of your movement uncomfortable and borderline painful. 

At this point, your body's becoming a nuisance and your bitch of an headache isn't helping you calm down either, it just pisses you off further. You feel like screaming in frustration, you feel like crying in pain and pure sadness, you feel like hurting yourself to make the rest stop hurting, you feel like you're on the very edge of having a full-on mental breakdown when you can't afford it.

You're in unknown territory, you don't know anyone in this place and, sure, August seems like a nice dude but that doesn't mean you trust him.

When you get out of the shower, your level of stress has diminished a little but you're still pissed off. You're pissed at yourself, pissed at the pain your body is in, hell, you're even pissed at the fucking floor at this point. Everything and anything pisses you off and you don't need to try and justify it, you're pissed and that's that.

_yeah, fuck you floor._

You cross the corridor of the house to get back to the living room, grabbing your backpack and throwing yourself back on the couch before angrily rummaging through the bag, looking for the old Gameboy you've found a while back but never got a chance to really play with.

Your hands are shaking either in anger, frustration, pain or sadness -probably all four together- but you still manage to get the big grey console out, letting out a small laugh when you spot a Zelda game inside of it, ready to play and you eagerly turn it on, relaxing when the music of the game fills the terribly quiet house.

 

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**FLASHBACK //  SANCTUARY // THE NIGHT BEFORE // 1:00 AM //**

A disgustingly loud burp makes Faith's face twist in disgust as she steps into the workers' break room, the strong smell of alcohol almost burning her throat as she takes in the state of her "fearless" leader, now drunk off his ass.

" **I** s that the plan?" she asks, annoyance clear in her voice as she leans against the door frame, " **G** et wasted and sit on your ass all day?"

" **W** atch it- Might be drunk but m'still your boss- or whatever the fuck." he slurs out, clumsily turning around to sit on the pool table in the room just as clumsily, making Faith sigh as she gets to him to keep him from falling straight on his face, " **T** hanks." he mumbles as he gets comfortable on top of the table, groaning in frustration.

" **N** egan-"

" **I** fucking love her, Faith." he spills out, looking out a window as if it'll somehow make you appear in front of the gates of the compound. Faith stays silent, her brain unsure as to how to process that information.

Faith knew Negan before, she's known the man he used to be and the two can't compare, that much she knows. He's always been cocky and overconfident, that's nothing new, but, after he's changed so damn much, hearing him say that he loves someone isn't something she could have ever predicted from him and she's usually pretty damn good when it comes to anticipating Negan's next moves or words. Her shock mostly has to do with the fact that those are three little words she'd ever imagined coming out of the man's mouth, not even before the outbreak.

Though she knew, of course she did. It's in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so highly yet so defensively of you, the things he lets you get away with, the things he does for you. Of course she knows he loves you, there never was a doubt in her mind but, actually hearing him say it out loud? That's not something she ever could have been prepared for and the thought makes her laugh. If she reacts like that to hearing those words when she already knew, how will you react?

" **Y** eah. Yeah, I know you do, you stupid asshole." she teases, getting a chuckle out of him, before sitting next to him on the pool table.

" **I** can't fuckin' stand not havin' her around, y'know? Not bein' able to touch her, to have her right here with me, to hold her- Hell, I miss her fuckin' smell too- God damn, she smells fucking heavenly, seriously- Even covered in guts and shit, she still smells like fucking dinner and you better believe that I'm fuckin' starved. Fuckin' hell- I hate that mushy shit but- goddamn, she's drivin' me fucking insane."

" **H** ey, don't blame the girl for your insanity, s'not fair." though Negan smiles at that, he keeps going on with his rambling as if Faith hadn't spoken.

" **I** t's so fuckin' selfish but- Goddamn- Is it weird that I would rather have her fuckin' hate me but around then to let her go out on her own if it means she'll be happy and shit? No 'cause- Fuck that, I can't do that, makes me fuckin' sick just thinkin' about it."

" **S** 'not weird, just..." she looks at the man next to her, her heart swelling at his words because, in his very own odd and fucked up way, she can tell that Negan holds nothing but love for you yet she can't really sit there and tell him that the way he behaves around you is right because it just isn't, at all, " **S** he loves you too, you know? It's pretty damn obvious but- You can't blame her for being afraid of getting too close to you, Negan- Not after all the shit you've put her through, y'know?" Negan's eyes silently fall to Faith's face, his dizzy mind taking her words in, " **Y** ou really- You really think that people won't respect you anymore if you dare show your girl love? Seriously, Negan, get your shit together. People don't respect you because you have a bunch of who- of women- laying around, alright? It doesn't work like that and you know it, you're just hiding behind that as an excuse and for what, uh? Because you're afraid? What about her? What about her being scared shitless? What're you gonna do about that? How about you drop the act and just try and be there for her like she needs you to be, Negan?"

" **W** e uh- We got into an argument and then she stormed out and fuckin' ran off again and- Fuckin' hell, now she's gone and I can't handle this shit anymore, I just- I fuckin' need her and it's pushin' me outta my fuckin' mind."

" **S** he's left a note, Negan." Faith insists, her voice harsh to try and get through her drunk leader's head, " **S** he said she will be back by morning and she hasn't gotten back, Negan. She would have run off? She would have let a note telling you to go choke on your own dick if any at all, alright?" the two share a look and a small laugh over Faith's words, knowing damn well that you, indeed, would have left something along those lines for Negan to find, " **N** egan- What if... I mean- What if something happened to her? What if she ran into trouble out there?"

" **D** on't-"

" **B** ut what if she did? C'mon, she said she'd be back by morning yesterday and, well, shit, she ain't back, is she? I think it's time to think about that kind of possibility because we both know she wouldn't risk running late. Not when you've told her that you'll get back to taunting her friends if she ever was to run off again. Negan, c'mon."

" **I** love her so fuckin' much- Fuckin' hell." he whispers as he drops from the pool table on to the floor, clumsily balancing himself on his feet, the alcohol running through him making his movements way more difficult then they should be.

" **L** et's go get your sorry ass to bed, we'll go look for her again tomorrow and then you'll tell her that 'cause, as much as I love to hear you say it, m'pretty sure she's the one needing to hear those words from you, Negan." Faith says as she puts a gentle hand on her leader's back, helping him walk out of the room, to his quarters and to his bedroom where she leaves him with a goodnight and a small laugh when he lets his body fall heavily on his bed, grunting a "' _night, doll_." into his pillow before Faith leaves the room, a small smile on her face thought not knowing where you are and if you're okay or not is seriously getting to her.

 

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You're so absorbed in your game that you don't even hear the door of the house opening and closing nor the sound of tiny feet running inside the living room, you don't realize that you're not alone until you feel the couch dip lightly next to you.

" **W** ow, wh- Hi?" you look at the little girl sitting next to you on the couch, confused as to what the hell is happening and why said thing is happening.

" **H** ello." the little girl frantically waves at you, her high-pitched voice due to her young age and the huge grin on her freckled face makes you melt and forget just how awful the last couple of days have been to you for a short but enjoyable second, " **W** ho are you?" she asks, her head curiously tilting to the side, making you laugh a little.

" **I** , uh- I'm [y/n]."

" **H** i, [y/n]! I'm Robin! I'm six!" she's so enthusiastic about everything that her head keeps moving around as she talks to you.

She has gorgeous, thick brown curly hair running wild on top of her head, baby hair framing her face as well as a couple of loose curly strands of hair here and there. She has the same breath taking clear hazel eyes as her dad, her face is covered in freckles and her skin seems to be shade slightly darker than her father's.

" **H** i, Robin." you extend your hand out to her, " **I** t's nice to meet you."

" **T** hank you!" she takes your hand in her tiny one and squeeze it slightly, " **Y** ou're so pretty! You look like a princess-" she lets out a huge gasp, her eyes shinning and widening, " **O** h my gosh, are you a princess?"

You sit there in silence for a small instant. Did this child just asked you if you're a princess? She's so genuinely curious to know that it makes your heart hurt a little.

" **R** obin?" you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out for the young girl before the woman who took care of you the night before walks into the living room, giving you a warm, genuine, smile, " **H** ey, there. I'd take it you've met my grand-daughter, Robin." she says with a small laugh with you nod at her, giving her a small smile.

" **Y** eah. Yeah, I have, she's lovely."

" **N** ana, nana! Nana, listen!" Robin begs for her grandmother's attention as she kneels in front of you, settling a big brown leather bag down next to her on the floor, " **N** ana!"

" **Y** es, Robin, I hear you sweetheart." you wonder how she can keep her calm like that with a child with such an high-pitched voice keeps calling for her, you'd lose your fucking mind for sure.

" **O** h," the little seems a little embarrassed by all the yelling she's been doing now but she's quick to recover when she looks at you, "[ **Y** /n]'s a princess, d'you know? Uh? Nana?"

" **U** h, is she now?" Astrid playfully looks up at you, carefully wrapping the cuff of her BP cuff around your arm to take your tension, " **W** ell, I must admit, I had an itch." the woman fondly winks at you before focusing back on your tension.

" **W** ow, really?" Robin looks at you, her eyes shinning with excitement and you can't help but play along because, really, what can of heartless creature could shut that little girl's dreams down like that?

" **W** anna know a secret?" you whisper, making Robin nod her head in excitement, " **A** lright, so, I used to be a princess-"

" **W** ow!" you let a small laugh, unable to keep it in anymore.

" **I** know, right? But then, get that, people start telling me that me being a princess meant that I had to sit there all day and wait for some prince, lame, right?" she frowns and nods her head in approval, making your insides melt and, you're so focused on the little girl sitting next to you that you don't even notice that Astrid is also intently listening to you, " **S** o, I ran away."

" **N** o?!"

" **Y** eah. And I decided that I would rather be my own person rather than live in luxury and wait for some prince to come rescue me and pamper me." you look at her and see that she's waiting for you to keep going so you smile and keep the story rolling, not noticing the soft look her grandmother is giving you as she, as a grown woman, fully understand the meaning behind your words, the story you're truly telling behind the fairy tale, "Who needs boys anyways, right?"

" **Y** eah, boys are gross."

" **Y** up, they really are." she giggles and eagerly lets her hand come down on the palm of yours when you offer her a high-five, Astrid watching the two of you with a gentle smile on her face as she finally unwraps the cuff from your arm, " **B** ut, hey, y'know what? You can be a princess on your own terms."

" **I** can?" her eyes lit up at your words, so does her grand-mother's, and you swear that little girl is about to kill you.

" **Y** es, of course you can. You just have to be really strong and fight for what you believe in, stick to who you know yourself to be and it'll all be alright, you'll see. I can already tell that you're going to be a butt kicking princess, bet you already are."

The little girl lunches herself into your arms, making you twitch at the contact but you force yourself to relax and hug her back, not wanting to be the asshole that'll make her feel unwanted or unloved.

As she whispers a " _Thank you_." against your neck, you swear you can feel your heart skipping a few beats, freaking out at the notion that you're being the person that you've never had to chance to have around you growing up to this little girl and it's the most recomforting feeling in the whole world yet, it fucking hurts, but you don't mind, or, at least, you try not to mind it too much at the moment. It just hurts you to realize just how alone you were as a little girl and still are to this day as a "grown up".

A few minutes pass and Robin ends up crawling between your open legs, settling between your thighs, resting her elbows on each of them as you let her play Zelda, laughing with her as you tell her the story of the game and teach her how to play.

You have to admit, it feels great to interact with a human being with clean, good attentions, with no wicked thoughts, no urge to take from you nor wants to hurt you in any way shape or form. You two just genuinely enjoy some time away from all the unnecessary noise and stress dripping out of everyone nowadays.

Your focus switches back to Astrid when you feel the coldness of anti-septic being sprayed the raw, injured skin of your ankles, making you jump and twitch in discomfort.

" **S** orry, honey."

" **N** -no, no, it's okay, really. Thank you." you insist, lying, before giving her a small smile and receiving an escapologist one back from her.

She finishes cleaning the wounds on both your ankles and wrists, worry writing all over her face as she does and it's almost too much for you to bare. It's like there's a fucking detailed script of what happened yesterday written on your skin and it's driving you insane because, damn, that woman can read.

After putting her medical supplies back into her back, Astrid asks her grand-daughter if she wishes to stay with you for a little while longer, the only answer she gets from the little girl is a low mumble and a laugh from you. You make sure that August, her father, won't have a problem with his daughter staying with a stranger and she assures you that she'll "handle him", Robin backing her grandmother's words, saying that she too will handle him, making you smile at her confidence.  

A good hour passes, giggles are filling the empty house as well as short but meaningful and adorable conversations between you and the young Robin, she asks you about the world outside but you decided to smoothly change the topic.

You don't want to have to lie to her but you also can't afford to tell her about how dark and terrifying the world outside the walls she lives inside of truly is, you can't be the one crushing her spirit. You know that, some day, she'll have to learn if she wants to survive but, she's just so young, now doesn't seem to be the right time and you don't seem to be the person with whom she should be having this conversation.

" **R** obin!" August roars making the two of you jump on the couch but Robin is quick to smile at her father when he steps into the living room, worry and slight anger in his eyes, " **Y** ou scared the crap outta me, Robin! You can't just disappear like that." his eyes shift between you and the little girl

" **N** ana knows I'm here, daddy, plus [y/n]'s really nice... And that's five dollars in the swear jar by the way." Robin looks at her father and it seems as if he can't help the smile pushing its way on his lips though he's supposed to be an angry and worried to death father right now, he just can't assume that position when his little girl seems so genuinely happy.

" **O** h yeah? She is, uh?" he says quite softly, calming down from his huge panic, all whilst looking right at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

After giving you a kiss on the cheek, Robin crawls out of your open legs, hugs her father's legs tightly, apologizing about vanishing and worrying him like that before running out of the house, a small squeal leaving her mouth when she runs into something but it quickly turns into a giggle.

" **A** ugust- Look, I-"

" **H** ey, it's fine." he looks at your worried, clearly guilt-filled face, "[ **Y** /n], I mean it." he looks back before sitting down next to you, careful to respect your personal space, " **H** ow you feelin', kiddo?" he asks and you're unsure if you should tell him that you feel like utter crap or just shake it off and put a smile on your face.

" **I** just- I don't want to be a nuisance, y'know?" you whisper, looking down as you nervously pull on your fingers.

Looking down at your fingers is when you realize that you're only wearing a hoodie and a pair of underwear and socks, your thighs bare and exposed. They're all bruised up and even have a few mean looking cuts on them.

" **Y** ou're not-" he stops when a mean scoff leaves your lips, " **H** ey," he insists, unsure if he should touch you to make you look at him or not but his little outburst seems to do the trick and you look up at him, your eyes shinning with tears that you're not willing not let slip out, not in front of him, " **H** ey, it's okay." his voice softens once more when he takes you in, " **I** haven't seen my little girl smile like that in- Shit, feels like forever. I'm not- I'm not the best dad in the world, never been and never will be, I can't afford that, not if I want to protect her. But- I mean- It doesn't mean that I don't love her more than anything else, there's not a damn thing I wouldn't do or give away for her to be safe and happy... Well, as happy as she can get giving, y'know, the circumstances and all."

"Yeah- S-still, I'm sorry I thought- I thought your mom told you that she was w-with me and- and- yeah."

"No, I mean- She did but, like, she took her sweet ass time and I was already on my way here about to melt through the damn door when she called me up to tell me Robin was with you, I was- I was still freaked out if I'm being honest." he lets out a small laugh, "Clearly."

You let out a shy laugh at that before your mouth goes completely dry and closes when you see Jesus walking into the living room, a smile on his lips. He almost looks shy and nervous.

"Hey sweetheart, long time no see, uh?" he lets out a small laugh and you take your time to take him in, carefully watching him.

He's not wearing his beanie, his hair are done into a neat bun and his beard is still going strong, taking over the lower half of his face. His presence is still as reassuring as you remembered it to be and you feel the bridge holding your tears inside your eyes starting to crack, like the simple fact that he's in the room is enough to let you know that you're safe, that you're allowed to let go, so you do.

And, of course, he rushes to you, August not making a move to comfort you as he's still unsure if touching you is the best idea, and he doesn't hesitate to take you into his arms and hush you.

" **I** -I'm s-sorry- I-" you sob into his chest, hiding your face from both him and August.

" **S** top, sweetheart, stop that." one of his hands comes down to rub your back but he quickly withdraws it when you sob out violently at the contact, your whole body tensing up and trying to push away from him as panic takes over you, " **H** ey, hey, hey, [y/n]." he tries to calm you down but you keep crying and shaking in fear into his arms, "[ **Y** /n], sweetheart, listen to me." he pulls away from you, firmly yet gently framing your face with gloved hands, absently wiping away the tears falling out of your eyes but there's so many that most of them roll down and climb over the leather of his gloves to keep going on their way down, " **H** ey, it's okay, it's me, s'Paul. You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay, I promise."

" **N** -no- No I-I'm not." you let out between a few sobs, your body shaking along with them.

Jesus takes his time to look at you, to look at your now tear soaked face and down to your bare thigh, a rush of adrenaline caused by panic and slight anger rushing through him.

"[ **Y** /n]." his voice got lower but it's not in a threatening way like Negan's when his voice drops whenever he's mad at you, yet, it's still enough for you to feel the need to cover your ears and squeeze your eyes shut to try and make him disappear but he takes your hands into his before you can get the chance to do so, though you still get to shut your eyes and you do, " **D** id- Wha-" he's unsure what question to ask first, how to formulate it and if he should even go there but he needs to know. There's giant hand prints burned into your skin, mean looking bruises, wounds and cuts that he just can't let go of like that, he needs to know, " **P** lease- [Y/n], sweetheart, talk to me- Please." he's pleading and that's all it takes to break you, he sounds so distressed, you can't stand it for some reason.

" **I** didn't- I didn't- I don't-" you try and take a deep breath but you can only manage to take a short, shaky one, " **I** can't- Paul- Paul, I c-can't!" August has left the room a little while back, feeling like you and Jesus needed some privacy, though you haven't even realized his disappearance.

" **I** t's just us, [y/n], you can talk to me, you know that. I don't want to force anything out of you but- You-" you finally re-open your eyes and his heart sinks further down his chest when you try and put a small smile on your face to reassure him, " **H** ere's that smile again." he lets out a sad laugh, " **Y** ou know- You don't- You don't always have to smile through your pain, [y/n]. You just don't, it doesn't work like that and you know it."

" **I** can't- I c-can't afford t-to let m-myself drown i-in it either s-so wh-what options do I r-really have be-besides smiling it out?" you push out before forcing yourself to look up at the man kneeling in front of you, eyes glistening with hot tears, you're hurt yet you still force a smile, your lips shaking at the forced movement, making Paul's heart ache some more.

Outside the house, August is leaning against one of the posts keeping the house's porch up when he hears a rough voice calling for him.

" **H** ey Frey! Ya seen the majestic bearded sonofabitch that dragged me here anywhere? Can't find him."

" **H** ey, Dixon, s'nice to see you too. I'm fine, thanks for asking." August teases the hunter, getting a punch to the shoulder in return, " **J** esus' inside-" he puts his hand on Daryl's chest as he tries to get past him to get inside the house, getting a confused stare from the archer, " **I** uh- I think you should leave him be for a little bit."

" **W** hy's that? The hell is goin' on?"

" **W** ell, I think he reunited with a friend of his so, y'know- Seems like they have to lot to catch up on, wouldn't want to intrude or anythin', s'all."

" **A** n old friend? Man, who the hell's in there?"

" **A** pretty damn young girl we found yesterday, she's in bad shape, man but she has one hell of a temper though-"

" **W** hat's her name, August?" the leader of the small community seems taken aback when he hears Daryl use his birth name instead of his nickname like he, and everyone else, really, usually do.

" **U** h- [Y/n], wh-" he doesn't get to finish forming his question as the hunter shows right past him and rush inside the house, slamming the door shut behind him, " **C** ool, okay- S'cool, totally cool. Could've told me to go suck a dick too, would have been quicker." August mumbles, confused as to what the hell just happened.

 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

The door slamming shut makes you jump and sob out loud into Jesus' chest, the man frowning at the intruder and you push yourself further into him.

"[ **Y** /n], sweetheart." Jesus starts, gently pulling you away from him to make you look at him, " **I** t's okay, you're safe." he quickly looks behind the couch you're sitting on, his eyes locking on his friend, " **D** aryl's here, sweetheart. You're okay with that, right?"

His words barely register in your mind, the simple mention of his name behind enough for you to turn around, your eyes landing on a tensed Daryl, looking at you with worry in his eyes and your legs are suddenly getting a mind of their own and drag you to him with clumsy steps, letting your entire body collide into his once you get close enough. The hunter's strong arms quickly wrap around your shaking frame, his lips kissing the top of your head, one of his hands firmly yet gently grabbing the back of your neck to keep you close to him, almost as if he's afraid to let go, like he always does.

" **H** oly shit, [y/n]." he whispers against the top of your head, his grip on you getting impossibly tighter, " **I** was fuckin' worried sick 'bout you, pumpkin. Where the hell've you been?"

" **I** -I don't- kn-know." you sob out into his chest.

All it takes is from Daryl to look up at Paul, for them to share a simple look and he knows. He knows something bad happens, something beyond bad judging by the look in Jesus' eyes but it's not just that. It's your behavior, you never let yourself cry like that unless something really pushed you over the edge and it usually takes something pretty damn violent to get the job done.

The hunter closes his eyes before carefully picking you up to rock you back and forth into his arms, hushing you, trying his best to calm you down, something he normally would be embarrassed to do when there's someone else in the room with you but, right now, he doesn't give a crap, he just wants you to feel safe, regardless of the fact that he's now showcasing a whole new side of himself to Jesus.

" **I** w-wanna- I wanna go home." you choke out, your body going limp with fatigue, your tension still very bad, your body craving attention, care, food and hydration, " **W** -want Negan." you whisper into Daryl's chest and it's barely audible yet, your words are loud and crystal fucking clear to both the hunter and Jesus, the two men tension at the mention of the big bad wolf but none of them say anything.

You need Negan, hell, you never thought you'd ever be saying that, you never thought you'd ever be craving and needing him. You never thought you would ever miss him like you do right now, damn it, that man is a pain in your fucking ass, you didn't ask for this, you never wanted to feel the way you do about him, it's all his fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, SO, YEAH, THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT-ISH, BETCH, I KNOW! BUT LEMME EXPLAIN! PUT DOWN THE KNIFE BECKY!  
> I WAS TORN AS TO WHERE I WAS SUPPOSED TO END IT SO I DECIDED TO END IT WHERE THE FREAKING CHAPTER ENDS (you still with me? no? yeah, me neither) AND I DECIDED TO MAKE THE TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER WAY LONGER AAAAAAAND NEGAN'LL BE BACK WITH HIS GIRL AAAAAAND ALSO.... smut, yes, for science... there'll be smut, for science.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're all doing good, that you're safe and sound (bunch of scary shit going on out there these days) I love you, again, thank you so much for being so damn patient with me, you're all so freaking sweet, I love you.
> 
> PS // this long ass break was a one time thing (well, I might still take breaks here and there if I don't feel well but that ain't the point) I'm going to fall back on the regular schedule which was a new chapter every weekend with, sometimes, a week in-between if need be. Okay, cool, glad we had that conversation. LOVE YOU, BOO. OKAY, BUH-BYE.


	26. Kiss it better //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, I'm home! Hey, put the knife down, alright? If you want a divorce, just say so. I mean, let's be honest, you could definitely do better.  
> I'm sooooorry, I'm late, I knoooooow, I'm the wooooooorst, uUUUUuuuuugh.  
> I got fucking sick and I couldn't leave my damn bed without throwing my guts up and being dizzy and blAH BLAH BLAH WHO FUCKING CARES! I'm all better now (well, i'm back to "normal" at least, dunno if i'll ever be someone you can actually consider to be healthy, bleh) and there's chapter twenty-six or whatever.  
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter (i kinda had a blast writing it tbh) because, let's be honest with ourselves here, that's literally all I can do... hope ಠ3ಠ
> 
> OH, AND, BEFORE YOU START, THERE'S NO ACTUAL SEXUAL INTERACTION IN THIS CHAPTER BUT THERE IS SOME HEAVY DUTY NON-CONSENSUAL(-ISH) SPANKING  
> THE REASON WHY THERE'S NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER THOUGH I DID SAY THERE WOULD BE (is cos I'm fake news) IS SIMPLY BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT THROUGH AND IT JUST DIDN'T SIT RIGHT WITH ME TO HAVE AN ACTUAL SEXUAL INTERACTION HAPPENING BETWEEN THE OFC AND NEGAN WHILE SHE'S IN THE STATE THAT SHE'S IN BOTH EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY ALSO PREPARE YOUR ASS FOR SOME HEAVY, DISGUSTINGLY FLUFFY FLUFF. ANYWAY, HOPE YOU'LL STILL ENJOY THE OFC/NEGAN REUNION COS, BITCH, IT'S HAPPENING. 
> 
> ALSO, BE WARNED I DID NOT DO ANY KIND OF PROOFREADING ON THIS CRAP, I'M TOO TIRED RIGHT NOW WHICH MEANS I'LL BE DOING IT LATER AND PROBABLY CRY MY HEART OUT, ASKING MYSELF WHY I EVEN PUT THIS SHIT OUT THERE FOR PEOPLE TO READ BUT, HEY, WHATEVER, I LOVE PAIN. 
> 
> PS // remember how I had surgery not so long ago? Yeah, well, after said surgery, I wasn't supposed to drink alcohol for at least six months and guESS WHAT YOUR GIRL DECIDED TO DO? GUESS! Yeah.... I drank some AND, because it wouldn't be me if it wasn't stupid as shit, right, I had the bright idea to take my antidepressant while drinking alcohol and oH MY GOD DON'T YOU AFTER LET ME CATCH YOU DO THAT SHIT BECAUSE I WILL KICK YOUR ASS. YOU SHOULD NEVER, EVER, MIX ANTIDEPRESSANTS, OR ANY FUCKING MEDS FOR THAT MATTER, WITH ALCOHOL, DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT. I honestly wasn't even thinking about it when I did and, well, let's just say that my body kinda laughed at me and told me to fuck right off with this shit and, yeah... I got really sick... S'nothing compared to the major fit my mama threw when I told her just how I got so fucking sick.  
> But, yeah, anyways, that's why I haven't posted in two weeks, I was forced to stay in bed (it was horrible *war flashbacks* I was forced to live off my phone for Tumblr and my tablet for Youtube, what a poor soul I am, such sad, much pain... she says as some people don't even have a fucking bed to rest in in the first place oH MY GOD I HATE THAT SHIT AND, YES, I KNOW THIS ISN'T THE PLACE TO MAKE FUCKING POLITICAL STATEMENTS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK BUT GODDAMMIT WHY ARE THINGS SO FUCKING BAD FOR SOME PEOPLE I DON'T UNDERSTAND, I'M SO CONFUSED, WHAT THE FUCK EIOZRJPOZAKFEZNIPRTJEZERIRS). m'not even sorry, fuck you.
> 
> also, enjoy the chapter or, y'know, don't... luuuuuuv you.

" **Y** ou serious about this, uh?" Daryl growls as he paces back and forth in front of the couch you're sitting on, his erratic behavior doing nothing to appease your nerves.

 

" **Y** es, Daryl, I am." you try and keep your voice as calm as possible but it's getting more and more complicated to do so as it feels like you two've been at it for hours now with this ridiculous back and forth, " **T** hat's the way it's gotta be, you know th-"

 

" **B** ullshit it is!" he finally snaps and, you have to admit, you're relieved now that he finally has. The build up was killing you.

 

" **D** aryl, calm down, man-" Jesus tries but quickly backs down when the hunter shots him a deadly glare.

 

" **Y** ou don't belong with him, y/n, goddammit! You belong back home, at Alexandria, with me and Rick and the others, and y'know that!"

 

" **O** h my God, Daryl!" it's now your turn to snap and you get up off the couch, ignoring the painful throbbing in your body at the sudden movement, " **I** 'm trying to keep you and the people you love safe, trying to make it so no one else has to die and you- you act like I just took a dump in your freaking Cheerios!"

 

" **Y** /n-" Daryl's voice is now back to normal, softer than it usually is actually, as he finally takes in the pain you're in and realizes just how stupid all this arguing is.

 

" **N** o! I can't- I'm sick of having to stand there and-and watch people drop like flies around me, alright?" you let your head drop to look down at your white knee-highs, tears filling your eyes and you try your hardest to keep them there but, eventually, they fall out, dropping on the fuzzy carpet covering the wooden floor beneath you, " **I** can't lose you too, Daryl- Please-" you flinch when you feel the archer's strong arms crushing your much smaller frame for the second time this morning but, really, you're not complaining.

 

It's insane how quickly things can change between the two of you. A few minutes ago, you were crying in his arms, content to finally see him again then, in a blink of an eye, he asked you " _ **S** o, now what, sweetheart_?" and you simply said you had to go back which, of course, made his already hot blood boil and you ended up arguing and throwing words at one another. Jesus standing on the sideline, afraid that he'll get hit by lightening if he was to step between the two of you and now- Well, now you're back to square one; hugging and apologizing.

 

Maybe that's just what happens when two people care too much for one another. He doesn't want you to go and you don't want to leave him, to be forced to live without him now that you finally got him back. But that's the difference between you and him; you try to keep a clear head about it, push your personal desires aside and think about what's best for everyone, not just you. Daryl can't do that, not when it comes to you, he never was able to and that clearly didn't change one bit, not even after years of being apart.

 

" **I** 'm going back on the road tonight, Daryl, I have to. It'll be okay, I promise." you whisper against his chest, trying your best to reassure him but, if you're being completely honest, it's mostly yourself you're trying to convince.

 

" **W** ait, hold on there." Jesus jumps in, making you step away from Daryl though his arms don't leave your body, just slacken a little bit to give you enough room to turn around and face Jesus.

 

" **W** h-what is it?" you ask with a small frown.

 

" **A** strid said you're in no condition to move, y/n. You can't just walk it off, alright? Not this time."

 

" **P** aul-" you try in vain - " **N** o, nuh-uh, you wanna go back? Alright, but we're driving you there, you're not walking-" he immediately interrupts.

 

" **P** aul, no." you try again, your voice a little firmer this time around.

 

" **H** e's got a point, y/n, y'know." Daryl steps in and you break away from his grip like he's just stabbed you, your eyes going back and forth between him and Jesus, the two men carefully watching you. Silence falls over the room until you spot Jesus moving from the corner of your eyes, narrowing them in confusion when you see him move his hand over his throat, obviously protecting it, " **W** ha-"

 

" **D** aryl said you tend to punch people in the throat, sweetheart- Just a precaution, is all."

 

You try. You try so hard to keep a straight face, to look angry at him but you fail miserably and a giggle escapes you. There's so many emotions going through you in such a short amount of time, you feel like a psychopath. For a moment, the room lightens up a little at Jesus' successful attempt to break the tension, a smile on everyone's face but you're quick to come back down to that harsh reality of yours and, suddenly, you don't feel like smiling anymore.

 

Just like that; the moment has passed. " **Y** ou know you can't- I can't take the risk to let him see you with me, he'll be pissed, he'll think I ran off to you again and-" you try to explain, your smile slowly fading as you do.

 

" **A** in't that what happened?" Daryl asks though everyone in this room knows damn well that, whatever your plan was in the first place, whatever reason you had to be outside of the Sanctuary, something went wrong and you know that's his way of asking what the hell happened to you without getting straight to the point. You hate it.

 

Sadly enough, no matter how subtle he's trying to be not to make you feel forced to talk about anything you don't want to talk about, the question still deeply upsets you, " **W** hat the hell happened out there, princess? C'mon, you gotta talk to me, you're even more closed off than you usually are, m'worried about y-"

 

" **I** 'm fine, Daryl, can we- Can we stop talking about it, please?" you didn't mean for your voice to sound so damn small and pleading but you can't force it to be anything else right now. Daryl is about to say something but he's quick to close his mouth when he spots tears polling into your eyes again, making them shine in the sunlight filling the warm living room.

 

" **I** 'm fine." you insist though your voice is trembling and, for a second, you're unsure as to who you're trying to convince; you or them, " **I** 'm fine, m'leaving tomorrow and that's that." you're about to walk out of the tension filled room but freeze in your steps when you catch Jesus mumbling something behind you.

 

" **Y** ou're as stubborn as your damn father."

 

It's a whisper, nothing anyone else would have been able to hear but you did, loud and clear even. Jesus' eyes widen in realization and yours in confusion because; what the hell was that just now? -" **P** -Paul?" your voice is shaky and you're unsure if you're pleading for him to run that by you again or for some in depth explanation about what he's just said and why he said such thing.

 

You look around the room, your eyes landing on Daryl's and the hunter almost immediately looks down, the carpet beneath his feet apparently suddenly more interesting than you, and that's your cue to freak the hell out. Daryl knows something, something he kept from you and that's never a good thing with him.

 

Not a word is spoken, just complete, heavy silence and you can feel tears of pure confusion and frustration turning your usually sharp eyesight into a blurry mess of faint outlines and dots before rolling down both of your cheeks, your hands clenched into tight fists, your knuckles turning white under the pressure you're putting on them.

 

" **I** uh- I didn't- I didn't know if-" Jesus doesn't finish his sentence, unsure of what the hell he's even trying to say in the first place and, instead of speaking, he reaches around to the back of his pants and pulls out the picture of you and your father he always carries around before handing it to you with a shaky hand; nerves, guilt and panic eating him alive right on the spot. - " **W** h- I don't- Wha-" you stutter, looking down at the polaroid in your now violently shaking hand, a sob rocking your entire body as you get a glimpse of your dad -ft. your baby self- after what feels like forever.

 

Part of you wants to shred this picture to pieces, burn it and forget all about its previous existence but another part of you finds relief in it. You find peace looking at your dad, your hero, the only man you've ever loved, knelled behind you as your younger self looks in pure awe at the bubbles floating in front of her. You look so damn happy and it feels kind of good to have physical proof that you've once felt happiness. You've once been happy and that's hard for you to even get a grip on because you can't remember what that truly feels like but, that picture is solid evidence that you actually did get to experience that feeling and that's good enough for you.

 

Again, you look at Daryl who's still awkwardly standing on the other side of the room, still avoiding your gaze like the fucking plague, before letting your eyes fall on Jesus' to find them looking straight back at you and, you'll be damned, there's tears in those baby blues and it's fucking killing you, it makes you want to reach out for him and hug him, tell him that it's okay but, the thing is; **it's not**.

 

" **I** -" once again, Jesus tries to explain his previous words but, once again, he finds himself unable to do so. He doesn't know where to even begin, how to even phrase it. When he looks at you again after briefly breaking eye contact, he sees your body shaking as it's being rocked by silent sobs, tears spilling out of your eyes like water out of a broken pipe and he can feel his heart tightening when you smile sadly at him and nonchalantly shrug your shoulders through your tears.

 

" **D** o I even want to know?" you ask in a whisper, the terribly forced smile on your lips fading as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, your arms wrapping themselves around your shaking body as to shelter you from your surroundings, from _them_ , " **M** 'tired." once again, you smile through your tears but, this time, you can't silence the sob ripping through your chest.

 

Daryl feels his arms twitching, his body and mind urging him to get to you and keep you safe in his arms but he forces himself to stay out of reach, knowing damn well that you're probably not really seeking physical contact right at this instant.

 

" **W** hen-" Jesus starts before pausing, watching your face for any signs that you might not want to hear what he has to say but, when your eyes meet his in a silent plea for him to explain what's happening, he keeps going, " **W** hen I first saw you that night-" he lets out a dry laugh, " **P** assed out in Negan's arms, covered in blood while he carried you around the place like a broken doll and ordered for Harlan to take a look at you-" his head drops but his eyes carefully stay on yours, " **I** thought, " _no_ _way_ " and, I kept telling myself that- that the world couldn't possibly be giving me one of the person I love the most back, especially not with the way it is nowadays but- The more I looked at you? The harder it got not to get my hopes up and then- then you woke up." his lips curl into a small smile, " **A** nd, well, remember when I went behind Negan's back to get you your backpack back?" you slightly look up at him at the mention of that night he helped you sneak out of Hilltop, " **T** hat's when I kinda ran out of explanations, when I saw your name sewed on that damn bag? Y/n Rovia, I sew that on there when you were, like, two or something... I just- I got scared, y/n."

 

" **S** -scared? Scared of wh-what?" you ask in a whisper, your voice giving your pain away, " **W** h-who- Who are you? To me- I mean-"

 

" **I** uh- I'm your uncle, y/n." he waits, looking for any sign that you may want to speak but, when you don't show any, he continues, " **L** ast time I saw you? You were just a little girl, y/n, and I- I felt like- Like now that you're all grown up- I felt like I probably should've stayed out of your life now that you clearly became your very own person. I didn't feel like I had the right to- Y'know, to suddenly reappear when the world's gone to shit and fuck things up for you again- I don't know, it didn't feel fair to you."

 

The only thing that can be heard in the heavily silent room is the sharp intake of breath you take followed by the sound of ceramic breaking on the wooden floor after your hand aimlessly flew around in search of whatever it could get a grip on and break. " **I** was fucking terrified, Paul! I was terrified, I felt so fucking alone and you- You just- You acted like-" you let out a frustrated " _ugh!_ ", anger making your head hurt and your blood boil as your heart seems to be two seconds away from blowing up inside your chest.

 

" **Y** ou listened to me talking about my dad- the man who happened to be your fucking brother?! And you played that shit off like it was a complete stranger telling you some personal shit that you didn't know what do to with! How could you do this to me? I trusted you!" you're wound so tight that it makes your head spin, makes you feel drunk but there's not that somewhat pleasant buzz you feel when you actually do get drunk, it's just dizziness, " **W** h-what if- What if- It's like- Like if Daryl would have run off when he saw me again or- or like he would've acted as if he didn't know me- It fucking hurts!"

 

" **Y** /n-" Daryl tries to calm you down but you don't even hear him talk as blood rushes through your head, making your ears ring.

 

" **Y** ou had no right to make that call for me! You should've told me! You should have told me and dealt with the whatever reaction you would've gotten! I'm sick and tired of people lying to me and then turning around to tell me that they did it to protect me because it's fucking bullshit! You did it for **you** , because **you** were scared, don't you put that on me!"

 

" **S** weetheart, I-"

 

" **D** on't. Please, just- I wanna be alone. Please." your behavior suddenly changes again, it goes from pure anger to pure sadness, your body goes from being completely rigid to completely limp though your shoulders stay just as tense and tears start to freely roll down your face to join the broken pieces of the poor vase you've smashed -which, by the way, you now feel guilty as shit about doing- on the floor.

 

You feel betrayed, got every right to, but it doesn't stop your heart from aching when you see the look on Jesus' face when he tries to get close to you and you step away from him. You need time, he understands that, of course he does, but he just wishes you two could talk about the situation, he just doesn't want to leave you all alone to dwell on it.

 

He can't stand that he knows for a fact; the second he and Daryl will be out of the house, you'll start crying and you'll be all alone, again. That you'll be forced to deal with something you shouldn't have to deal with all by yourself and it's killing him just thinking about it. " **F** 'course, whatever you need." he forces out, " **B** ut- Look, I know I can't ask anything of you, especially not now, but, please," the way he says that word almost breaks you, he sounds as upset and hurt as you are and it's making it extra hard for you to stay angry, "promise me you'll at least call Daryl if you need anything, y/n. Please."

 

" **Y** eah." the hunter agrees unsure of what the hell else to say and if he even should try to say anything else. You simply nod at them, your head still hanging down because you know damn well that your resolve will break if you so much as look at Jesus for a quick second and you can't afford that, not right now; you need to feel that anger. For once, you need to let yourself feel it, let your mind process it.

 

Daryl tries to reach out for you, every single fiber of his being still screaming and begging for him to wrap you in his arms, to comfort you, to make the pain stop but you ignore his attempt and step aside, silently asking both him and Jesus to leave you alone and, just as silently, they oblige.

 

Your body is on edge, tense like the string of a loaded bow, only slackening a little bit when you hear the front door of the house clicking shut, letting you know that you now officially are alone. **Again**. And, suddenly, it's too quiet but not enough, the sunlight too bright as it invades the small, cozy house, your heart beats too loudly as the muscle struggles to deal with all the different signals its receiving, between shots of adrenaline sent by pure anger and painful tugs caused by pure sadness.

 

All of the sudden, **it's all too much but not enough** and you get lost in this uncomfortable feeling.

 

Without even realizing it, you mindlessly start to pace around the small house, closing every shutters of every window in the house, putting yourself in darkness though sunlight is still slightly peaking through the cracks but you don't mind, it's actually quite appeasing. Clumsily, you clean the broken pieces of the vase you've smashed off the floor with your bare hands, not even noticing that the sharp shatters of ceramic are angrily digging into your soft flesh to leave cuts into the palms of your hands as you do.

 

It's only when you've thrown the shattered vase away that you notice the blood pouring out of the now broken skin of both your palms, the thick red liquid running down your wrists and forearms as you take a look at the deep and mean looking, yet small, cuts covering the thick flesh in the inside of your hands.

 

You make your way to the kitchen and carefully open the tap, trying your hardest not to stain anything as you do, before letting cold water run down both of your open hands, hitting the torn palms and washing the blood away though it keeps on pouring out of the cuts for a little while longer.

 

A few minutes pass before you finally shut the water off and let a sigh out as your hands start to throb at the discomfort caused by the cuts in your palms and the coldness of the water you've poured on them. You take a second, leaning forward above the sink, your eyes shut as you try to make sense of everything that's happened to you in the past forty-eight hours but, oddly enough, you can't. Go figure.

 

It just all seems so... unfair. You've never been one to complain about what life decided to hand to you and, boy, did that bitch spoil you with shitty surprises and agonizingly painful random presents. Yet, you've not once told yourself that life was being a tiny bit of a little bitch and wasn't playing fair at all, you always took what's being thrown at you and rolled with the punches, hell, **you still do**.

 

So, what changed? You're tired now, is what changed. You're tired and sick of things not working out. Don't get it twisted, you're a smart little cookie, you know damn well that life doesn't always go the way we thought it would, people aren't always who they first seem to be and that relationships don't always take the path we would've wanted them to, but, with you? It's different. It's never just; oh, well, this person is actually really shitty when I thought they were cool, it's never just; today kicked my ass but tomorrow will be better, It's never just; this person betrayed my trust and it hurts but she didn't mean to and, though it'll take time, it can be worked out.

 

No, it's more like; oh, well, this person is actually a fucking monster and she played nice just to try and get something out of me, it's; today beat me to the fucking ground and tomorrow'll do the exact same thing because I can't recover from such a beating overnight, it's **always** ; this person who I truly thought I could trust with my entire being betrayed me, lied to me and then managed to put the blame on me and make me believe that it actually was all my fault. You're tired of things being a blinding white or a terrifying dark black, there's no nuances anymore, it's bad or wrong, bright or dark, life or death. There's no space for anything else and it's tiring, it's fucking terrifying actually.

 

It's funny, really, because, when you think about it? You've never been allowed to be afraid, let alone terrified. **Ever**. Maybe when you were a little girl but, after your dad passed, that was taken from you. Being an actual human being and behaving as well as feeling like such was literally taken from you. How the hell are you supposed to recover from that? Well, Luna knew.

 

She's helped you, made you feel safe enough to let your guards down around her. God, you still can't get over the fact that she's had to teach you how to cry again. The first thing you come into this world doing; crying, is something you fought against so hard not to let your body do that you've actually had forgotten it even was capable of it in the first place.

 

Goddammit, you miss her. You miss Luna, you miss Merle and his stupid and sometimes awful takes on life and, fuck, do you miss your father...

 

God, you miss Negan.

 

You can feel your body shaking with silent sobs at the mere thought of him. You really want to run back to him, right fucking now, you want to burst out of this place you know fuck-all about and run back to him even though you know you'll be greeted with a stern look and probably a long-ass speech about how much trouble you're in. You don't give a crap how angry he'll be, you just want to be around him again- Fucking hell, you need it like lungs need air and a heart needs blood to pump and you hate it.

 

You hate this foreign feeling, you're scared shitless of it and you wish it would just go away and leave you the fuck alone but it seems to randomly be poking its head out more and more, reminding you of its existence, not letting you forget that its right there and it sure as shit doesn't hesitate to force itself on you.

 

You fucking hate that feeling and you don't even know what it is, you don't need to. You hate Negan for forcing this feeling on you, it's all his fault. You were doing just fine before you met him and now he's got you all messed up, all tangled up in feelings you didn't even know of.Who does he think he is, exactly? He had no right to burst into your life and turn things around like that, he took control away from you and you didn't even try to fight for it because you didn't even realize it was even happening.

 

God, **you wish you could hate him.**

 

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You're not sure what time or day it is, or if the real Slim Shady ever actually stood the fuck up, when you wake up, all you know is that; it hurts. **Everything hurts**. You feel like you've been ran over by a semi-truck and then somehow managed to get yourself into a freaking brick-throwing-fight which you most definitely lost judging by the way your body is aching and throbbing.

 

You instinctively bring the ball of your thumb down to your eye to rub it awake but, by doing so, you awake the fresh wounds in your palm and the cuts start to make the inside of your hand throb, the left one eventually joining the shit party once you're fully awake. You groan in discomfort and look around, taking your surroundings in; you're laying on the couch, your face flat against a bunch of pillows and the fuzzy blanket that kept you warm last night thrown over your curled up body.

 

Your vision is blurry and your mind dizzy but you still manage to sit down, the blanket leaving your upper body and falling around your waist, " **D** ude- What d'I do?" you ask yourself though the awful taste in your mouth is quick to remind you what exactly happened, " **D** arn it- Stupid- Ugh."

 

You grumble before getting up off the couch, almost tripping over an empty bottle on the floor. You bend over to pick it up; it's an empty bottle of Jack... Well, two empty bottles of Jack and an half drunk bottle of cherry liquor.

 

_pretty sure that's a fucking record for us... fucking brilliant..._

 

Your stomach interrupts your self-loathing as it groans and you take the hint, which is; run to the nearest fucking sink or toilet and let me send this shit you put in me straight back to the sender... you fucking asshole... And so you do. You make your way to the bathroom and, yet again, you kneel down in front of the toilet, opening the lid, and, the second you do, your stomach clenches violently, your body upper body launching forward as you empty your stomach straight into the toilet.

 

You can feel your throat burning as well as your stomach as you throw up, your eyes watering as your gag reflex protests against the bile at the back of your throat and you eventually let a few broken sobs out. With a whine, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, flush the content of your stomach down the drain and crawl back on the tilled floor, your head aching and your body shaking with fear, panic and rocking with the sobs ripping through you.

 

It's been a long, long, time since you've last drank such a large amount of alcohol and it's never a good sign when you do. It's never good because it's always been a sign that you've been pushed too far and too violently, that you don't know how else to cope with the aftermath. It's never good because, when you get to this point, you never admit that you're not okay. Your efforts to hide it actually double and it's hard to detect even for people close to you, people such as Daryl.

 

Sitting there on the cold floor of this bathroom that isn't yours, saliva drying on your chin and swollen lower lip, tears soaking your face as they keep on pouring out of your eyes with reckless abandon, your whole body shaking as the air suddenly got ridiculously cold and your stomach growling in hunger and discomfort as it now most likely suffers from burns caused by the gastric acid you've forced your body to produce in unhealthy amount in the past few days and your throat aching, throbbing and dry because of said fluid attacking the flesh on its way out of your body... That's when it hits you; you're breaking.

 

You thought you were already there when you shot Randall, you thought **that's** when you broke, you even fucking **felt it**. But, what you're feeling right now? It doesn't compare, not one bit. It's terrifying, it feels wrong, you feel small, smaller than you've ever felt before. You feel overwhelmed yet completely numb, you're scared shitless yet it feels like you should be way more alarmed than you actually are.

 

Your body curls up on itself, your head instinctively hiding away into your knees as you let silent sobs rock your frame, your hands snaking beneath your thighs and linking together, tears soaking the skin of your bare legs as your fingers nervously pull at the hem of the sleeves of your over-sized sweatshirt. So much has happened ever since you've met Negan- Well, more like ever since he's bursts into you life all willy-nilly.

 

Being dragged to the Sanctuary, rules and people forced on you made you feel like a bird with clipped wings, the constant fighting with Negan drained you of your energy, Negan making you feel things that you've never asked to feel in the first place turned you into a ticking time bomb, then Jason taking you away like you're some prize waiting for someone to claim and put on a fucking shelf re-opened wounds that never even got the chance to heal in the first place. Connor dying made your heart ache more than it ever had since your father had passed, Negan forcing you to kill in such a brutal and gruesome way, bashing a man's head in with Lucille, a man who'd never did anything to you, didn't mean you any harm, that shit took a part of you that you'll never be able to get back, **ever**. And then... 

 

Then there's Randall- Randall dying? It fucking broke you to pieces, made your heart shatter, turned you to fucking dust for someone to come by and dust off the damn furniture.Now, two days ago, that fucking creep comes out of nowhere, dozes you up and forces himself on you, not only leaving marks on your body but also on your mind... So much happened and too much of it is just plain wrong and painful. How the hell are you supposed to cope with so much negativity? After all you've already went through, you can't help but wonder if there's even a point to it all anymore.

 

Sure, good thing happened too, after all; you've got to meet and befriend Connor and Randall... though it ended in a terribly painful heartache. You've met Faith, Dwight and... Well, Simon pretty much became sort of a father figure to you by now, he's rough around the edges but he's a good man, at least, he is to you. You also got Daryl back, hell, you even got your uncle back... Like, a few hours ago or so... Thing is, getting them back? It means that you also will lose them again, there's no way to avoid that, and it's gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

 

Jesus was right about one thing; the two of you getting a freaking reunion? The odds of that, with the way with world is nowadays, were so damn thin that you would have laughed at anyone who would have told you that it'd ever happen. That man was in your life since the day you took your first breath, he was there for your first word, your first steps- 

 

Hell, he's the one person you asked for the first time you've ever had a nightmare and, boy, did he come running that night, you remember it so clearly. You remember the look on your mom's face when you had asked for your uncle, rejecting her attempts to comfort you, your dad softly laughing, stopping when your mother glared at him, before shrugging and grabbing the phone to call his brother to the rescue.

 

Yeah, you're angry, but, the thing is, compared to the relief you're feeling? Your anger means little to nothing, nothing at all. But it's there for a reason right? Probably for multiple ones now that you think about it. You're angry at the memory of the last day you've spend with him, the memory of you running to your room though your birthday party was still going in the background, ignoring your mom and dad calling after you.

 

You're angry at the memory of your three years old self crawling beneath her bed and crying her heart out because she was hurting really badly. Hurt because she thought her uncle, the man her little girl's mind made her certain she would someday marry because she loved him with her whole heart and, well, that's what people do when they love someone very much, right? She thought that man hated her, that he didn't want anything to do with her anymore, that he'd gotten sick of her.

 

You're angry at the memory of feeling worthless and unloved at such a young age.

 

But, then again, no one ever told you why he actually left. Your mom insisted that it didn't matter, that he left, he'd broken your heart, and he didn't deserve your love and attention anymore. She actually had forbid the mere mention of his name in the house so, after she got mad at you for insisting, you gave up and just told yourself it was your fault, that you must have done something bad and he'd left because of it.

 

Having him back like that? It's odd, it feels... unreal, like this kind of happy coincidence doesn't have its place in this world, not anymore and, ultimately, that thought makes you feel uneasy. **It's too good to be true**. Something actually, genuinely good happening? To you? Yeah, right, sounds like the begging of a terrible joke or like the freaking punch line of one. You got Daryl back and lost Randall, it sure seems like life enjoys fucking you over whenever and however it can.

 

You remember what Luna always used to say; that you'll always have to fight for the things and people you love, that's what lets you know they're worth it. But, the question is; how the fuck are you suppose to protect something death can touch so easily? You can't, you're powerless and it hurts like nothing else does.

 

You take a shaky breath, bracing yourself, before getting up off the floor, helping yourself by grabbing the edge of the sink above you. Your legs shake, they feel unsteady as you step out of the bathroom but, so far, they seem to be able to carry you, still. You freeze when you reach the open living space of the house, your eyes wandering to the living room where they land on the two empty bottles of Jack laying empty on the fuzzy carpet covering the floor and then wander to the bottle of cherry liquor sitting on the coffee table, taunting you.

 

You make your way to the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water before wandering off again, the glass in your trembling hand and you stop in your tracks when you catch your reflection in the mirror next to the front door. You carefully put the glass down on the dinning table and curiously walk up to the mirror, your head curiously tilted to the side as if the person in the reflection is a complete stranger.

 

Saying that you look like hell isn't quite right because, in all honesty, you look more like something that's crawled out of it rather than the actual place itself. There's bruises on your face, the stitches on your brow bone showing and you can already tell that the hair on that specific spot won't be growing back when this is all set and done, your lips are swollen, your eyes puffy and red and your nose is sore, the skin beneath your nostrils irritated because of the sniffing and constant nose blowing you've been doing.

 

You've never been comfortable in your body, always thought yourself to be too curvy, your thighs too thick, your butt too round, your belly not as flat as it supposedly should be (?), your waist not slim enough and your arms too strong but, as you look into your reflection, something strikes you. You can see your collarbones way too clearly, you usually can't, not like that at least and your cheekbones are way too pronounced. You've always had a pretty damn sculpted face, your jawline sharp enough to cut a bitch and your cheekbones popping but softened by your fleshy cheeks.

 

Right now, you look... sick. You look sick compared to what you usually look like. It's always been funny to you how people always had the fucking nerves to say that being chubby isn't healthy when, really, looking at yourself right now, you look anything but. You look down, your heart clenching as your right thumb comes down on the side of your left one, tracing the rose shaped burn Randall has left on the skin there and you let out a choked sob laced with a small laugh, a sad smile on your lips as you keep rubbing the tattoo like Randall will appear right in front of you if you do it long enough.

 

You feel this urge to break everything in the damn room rising in you and you're not too sure why you're feeling that way. You're overwhelmed. Overwhelmed because it feels like, no matter what you do, what you say; it'll end bloody for you, whether it'll be with the blade of the knife, the barrel of a gun, bare hands or sharp, rotten teeth digging into your flesh, tearing you apart and there's no way around it. For the first time since the world went bunk; you're scared.

 

Scared of just how real this all is, scared of how painful your death will be, scared of how easily people seem to be turning their back on humanity to embrace being killing machines who know nothing but kill, take, shit, repeat. You're scared because, for the first time, you have no choice but to let yourself feel that fear. You're too damn tired to fight it off, too tired to push it back into a corner of your mind like you always do, always have. You're too tired to keep the brave face on and that never happened before, ever. Not even when Randall died.

 

Suddenly, you're forced to be vulnerable and that's scary as shit. You feel too humane, too fragile, too exposed. Your walls are completely down and you don't have the strength to build them back up, you're afraid you'll never get that strength back. You don't even realize that your body has sank down to the floor and you're now curled up on your knees, your hands on your belly, each holding the elbows opposite to them, your forehead against the wooden floor, tears rolling all over the place, some falling into your lashes, some dropping on the floor and, eventually, you fall on your side but your posture doesn't change. You stay curled up on yourself, crying your heart out, not carrying about how much tears you've already shed these past few days.

 

" **Y** /n. Hey, kiddo, look at me." your eyes, shinny with tears and fatigue, search for the source of the voice and you're able to make out a blurry spot in front of you. You're so far gone that you didn't even hear August walking inside the house and calling your name multiple times before he's spot you on the floor, you didn't even notice he had knelt down right in front of you, your ears ringing and filled with the sound of your own sobbing.

 

" **G** oddammit- Shh, it's okay, y/n, s'okay." he carefully snakes his hands around you, securing your body, before bringing you up into him, his arms wrapping around your shaking body and, to his surprise, you're quick to curl yourself up against his chest, your head resting below his chin as you let yourself cry, uncaring of the stitches and sore spots pulling on your skin as you do.

 

" **M** 'scared." you sob into his chest, your small hands pulling at his button-up like it's the only thing keeping you above water right now and you'll drown if you let go. - " **I** t's normal for you to be, kiddo. You don't know anyone here and-" he stops when you frantically shake your head no against his chest, silently protesting his claims, " **I** t's okay to be scared, y/n. Ain't nothin' wrong with that, y'hear me? We all get scared, it's human. There's nothin' wrong with being afraid, kiddo, y'hear me?"

 

You let his words sink in as they actually succeed to calm you down a little and you finally find the courage to get out of his hold to look at him, your cheeks burning when you realize that this man whom you barely know just found you having a full-on meltdown. You've never been more vulnerable than you are right at this instant and the fact that it's happening when you're in a place filled with strangers doesn't help to calm your nerves one bit.

 

" **Y** ou okay? You uh- wanna talk about it?" suddenly, he seems just as uncomfortable as you.

 

 

You shake your head no and two silently stare at each other for a few seconds but it seems like hours to you and, before you can help it, words start to carelessly spill out of your mouth. - " **I** wanna- I need- I think I need t-to talk about- about what happened- what happened o-out there but I-" your gaze drops and you let a shaky breath out, forcing a smile on your lips to try and not let your pain shine through more than it already is, " **I** just- I don't r-really want to, y-you know? But- But I need t-to get this- this weight off m-my chest and- it just hurts s-so bad and-"

 

" **H** ey," August softly interrupts you and the gentleness in his voice actually startles you and makes you look up at him, " **L** ook, kid, I don't-" he hesitates, " **I** 'm not about to say what I'm about to say to make you feel bad or judged or because I want to pressure you into anythin' but-" his face slightly twists as he seems to be looking for the right way to say what he has to say, " **I** , uh- M'pretty sure I know what happened t'you out there, kiddo." you feel like you're about to throw up and he immediately notices your uneasiness, " **A** nd I also know that I don't even know the fuckin' half of it." you can see his jaw clenching and you're unsure what's going through the man's mind at this very instant, " **T** he marks on your body? I mean, fuck, the hand prints kinda gave it away but- fuck me-" he stops when a sob escapes you, guilt filling him, " **S** hit, kiddo, I'm sorry."

 

" **N** -No-" you shake your head in protest, August unsure what to do, " **I** t's not- You didn't-" you force yourself to breathe though it hurts like a bitch when you do, but you still manage to take a deep, shaky breath through your tightened chest before giving August a small yet grateful smile, " **T** hank you."

 

" **W** hat'cha thankin' me for, kid?" he gives a dry laugh, " **I** didn't do shit. Just because I don't know you, doesn't mean I don't give a damn, alright?" you nod your head, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands and that's when he notices the sharps cuts in your palms, his paternal instincts overtaking him by surprise and he immediately reaches out to you, grabbing both your wrists, making your flinch at the sudden contact, " **S** orry- Sorry, I just-" he looks down at your opened palms, " **W** hat d'you do, kiddo?"

 

" **I** -It's- I br-broke a vase earlier and- I-I'm sorry, August, I'll-"

 

" **F** uck, you need to get those cleaned, y/n. C'mon." he says, clearly not giving a shit about the damn vase.

 

 

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Sitting next to the sink in the bathroom, you wait for August just like he asked you to, as he searches through the small medical cabinet right next to the small mirror behind your back. " **F** uck-" you hear the man curse under his breath and you turn your attention to him, " **S** orry, I just, uh-" he gives you a apologetic smile, " **W** e only got that really strong alcohol thingy that we don't really use anymore 'cause, well, it hurts like fuckin' hell and-"

 

" **T** h-that's okay, August."

 

" **N** ah, just hold on a sec, I'm gonna see if we ain't got some antiseptic back in the infirmary instead of this crap-"

" **A** ugust, no." you protest, shyly grabbing his hand as he goes to step out of the bathroom, making him look at you in confusion, " **I** t's uh- I just-" you quickly let go of his hand, your cheeks burning, now that you know you have his attention, " **T** his'll do j-just fine, honestly. I, uh- I used to clean m-my wounds with whiskey- now **that** stung real bad." you let out a dry laugh, " **W** h-whatever you got there, it'll do the trick, no need to waste medical supplies." His eyes roam over your face for what feels like hours though it's only for a few seconds, a sigh leaving his mouth when he finally steps away from the doorway of the bathroom and goes back to the medical cabinet to grab the bottle of alcohol and a pack sterilized gauze.

 

The silence in the small room is somewhat heavy but welcomed still by your aching head and your dizzy mind as August steps in front of you, putting the supplies next to you on the counter you're sitting on top of before carefully grabbing your right wrist to bring your hand up and take a close look at it. Silently, he opens the pack of gauze, pours alcohol on it, the smell of the strong chemical assaulting your irritated nostrils and making you grimace, August laughs softly, " **Y** eah, s'bad, I know. Sorry, kiddo."

 

" **I** 've had worse." you whisper more to yourself than you're directly speaking to him. He puts his focus back on your swollen palm, " **Y** eah, no shit." he acknowledges before bringing the alcohol soaked gauze down on the cuts in your palm.

 

The smell of the strong alcohol burning the raw cuts and mixing with the blood still leaking out of them invades the room and you flinch at the contact, the burn making your eyes water as your whole arm twitches and tries to break free of August's grip. Without saying a world, he hesitantly starts to rub his thumb over your wrist as the rest of his hand keeps a firm grip on it to keep your arm from moving away from him.

 

The simple gesture is enough to distract you and you decide to focus on the small circular motions of his thumb across your skin rather than the uncomfortable burning of the alcohol doing its work and cleaning the cuts as well as cauterizing them a small bit. " **H** ow you holdin' up, kid?" August checks in as he finally removes the gauze from your sore and throbbing palm, dabbing it a couple of times on the cuts before letting go of your hand for a short second to reach over and grab a bandage to dress your wounds up with.

 

" **M** 'okay." you mumble quietly, watching as he carefully wraps your hand up, " **O** -only one more to go, r-right?" you try and make it sound light, like a joke, but you're exhausted and, quite honestly, in pain and it shows in your voice. August looks at you now that he's done bandaging your hand, guilt shinning in his eyes, " **Y** ou sure you don't want me to go and see if I can't find ya some antiseptic, kiddo? Ain't no need for you to be in more pain than you already are-"

 

" **W** h-Why do p-people call you Jay?" August gives a small laugh at your blunt attempt to make him shut up about the damn antiseptic but he doesn't insist and decides to answer your question like what you're doing isn't obvious. - " **W** ell, kiddo," he starts as he opens a new packed gauze, pour the clear liquid on it and takes your left wrist in his hand to bring your hand up to him, "Jay's my second name." he explains, distracting you as he firmly but gently presses the soaked tissue down on your raw palm, making you whine, " **A** nd, for some reason, I liked it better than August when I was a kid so, I'd told everyone to use Jay instead. I guess it just, y'know, kinda stuck with me ever since." he takes a quick glance at your face, " **Y** ou still with me, kiddo?"

 

You quickly nod your head yes, your eyes glued to your shaking hand as you feel the alcohol soaking the gauze burning your sore, shredded skin, " **I** \- For wh-what it's worth, I r-really like your name. A-August's a p-pretty name."

 

" **T** hanks, y/n." he gives you a small but genuine smile before looking back down at your injured hand. Again, he gives one last firm press down on the cuts, making your whole arm twitch, pressing and tapping the gauze on the wounds and then reaches over to grab bandages and dress your injuries.

 

You experimentally wiggle the fingers on each hands, testing the wraps around the palm of your hands and let out a shaky sigh of relief when you feel the previous pain you've been feeling is now calming down a little now that the wounds have been taken care of and are now properly protected.

 

" **T** h-thank you." you whisper, looking down at your fingers as they shake with timidity, nerves and the leftover of pain and discomfort still throbbing in your palms slowly start to fade away. - " **D** on't mention it, kiddo." August's hand comes down on the top of your head and he gives your hair a quick ruffle, making you quietly giggle, " **S** mart haircut." he says matter-of-factly, " **I** gave up on trying to cut Robin's after she tackled me last time I even looked at a pair of scissors."

 

" **O** h my God." you laugh, biting down on your lower lips, making August smile. -" **V** aluable lesson; never underestimate the strength a little girl actually has, especially when it comes to something said little girl is so damn butt-headed about."

 

At that, the two of you share another laugh before letting silence settle back in-between you two whilst August gets busy throwing the used and bloody pieces of gauze in the small trashcan in the far-left corner of the bathroom. You carefully watch his movements, debating if you actually feel like trying and make small talk or if you still hate those as much as you used to.

 

Luckily for you, August decides to be the one to break the silence, " **Y** 'know-" he turns around to look at you, standing right in front of you as he leans against the shower's glass door, " **I** 'm not gonna try and pretend that I know a goddamn thing 'bout bein' out there all by yourself 'cause, truth be told, I never really was." his eyes absently narrow for a short second as he's visibly trying to find his words, " **T** hing is, I don't need the first-hand experience to know for a fact that, being out there for too long? It'll fuck you up, kid."

 

" **W** h-What if-" you look at him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, " **W** hat if that's th-the only thing k-keeping me sane?" the room falls silent again and you let out an awkwardly forced laugh to try and diffuse the situation, " **Y** -yeah- M-maybe you're right. M-Maybe it did j-just that."

 

" **Y** eah." you jump, not having anticipate that he'll actually say something. Looking back up at him, yours eyes immediately land on his as he looks at you like you'd look at a wild animal, unsure of what its reaction to certain movements or words might be, " **O** r maybe-" he pushes his body off the shower's door and takes a careful step towards you, " **M** aybe, it's just that I don't know the fuckin' half of it and, where I only see an ocean of shit, s'where you find comfort." he watches as your eyebrows furrow though your expression stays as soft as ever, another reminder that you're not a book anyone could ever get to just open and read out loud, " **Y** ou feel like you belong out there, with them- don't you?" he doesn't wait for an answer, " **S** 'why you're wound so damn tight ever since you set foot here, why you slept on the damn couch last night instead of getting comfortable in bed?"

 

You stay silent and decide to pay close attention to the bandages wrapped around the middle of each of your hand instead of the man in front of you, suddenly feeling much smaller than you're comfortable with. August doesn't speak either, just silently and patiently waits though he's not sure what exactly it is that he's waiting for, he just knows that he feels like there's something right at the tip of your tongue, itching to get past your lips and, maybe, just maybe, if he shows you that he's willing to patiently wait for you to take that step, you might let go and let it out.

 

Surprisingly enough, it seems as if he's made the right call by waiting it out and letting you get your bearings because, soon enough, your quiet voice breaks the silence between the two of you, " **B** -Before I go-" you hesitate, looking up at him, your eyes silently begging for comfort and he'll give it to you if he only knew how to, " **I** 'll head out and-and get you guys s-some medical supplies t-to, you know- To make up for the ones you-you've used on me, w-would that be alright?"

 

" **D** epends." he says, immediately catching the confused look in your eyes to which he smiles a little at, " **C** an I and some of my people tag along?" he carefully watches you as you clearly though silently debate all this in your head, your forehead creased in concentration and August realizes then just how hard it must be for you to work with people, especially ones you don't know fuck-all about, " **A** fter Daryl and Jesus left, yesterday-"

 

" **Y** -yesterday?" you cut him off, your heart skipping a beat as the realization of just how long the alcohol's put you out for finally hits you full force, " **O** h." you let out a small whisper, your face contorting into a sadden frown.

 

" **Y** eah." he says as if he knows exactly what you're thinking right at this instant and you look at him, your eyes shinning, giving away just how lost you're feeling, " **I** only came to check on you since no one'd seen you leave the house, found you passed out on the couch, saw the bottles and, y'know, kinda put two and two together and whatnot-"

 

" **M** 's-sorry, I-" - " **H** ey." he finally closes the distance between the two of you to stand right in front of you, but not pushing as far as settling between your legs as they dangle off the counter top you're still sitting on, stopping right in front of your knees, " **Y** ou ain't gotta apologize, kiddo. We all have our moments, s'nothing to be ashamed of, alright? That shit happens to me all the damn time- Hell, sure as shit more than it should when you know I have a little girl to look after."

 

" **Y** -you- You're n-not- You're not mad?" you ask shyly, like a kid asking his parents if she's in trouble or not after doing something she wasn't supposed to. - " **F** 'course not. And I ain't got the goddamn right to be, honestly. I just-" he pauses, suddenly looking unsure, almost as if he's about to let some big secret out, " **L** ike I said, you might be a stranger to me and me to you but- It doesn't mean that I don't give a shit. You're just a fuckin' kid- A kid which I'm sure is way more mature and intelligent than all the people left on this Earth combined all together, a kid who went through some shit a grown ass person would never have been able to get back from but, still, a kid none the less."

 

August takes a few seconds to look at you, looking for any signs that might tell him that he needs to stop talking, that he's hurting you and that you just don't want to hear that shit but, he doesn't find any, " **T** ruth is, it doesn't actually fuckin' matter how young you are. Truth is, I shouldn't see you as a fuckin' kid, not anymore but, _reality_  is; I'm a dad and there's instincts I can't seem to fight off sometimes, don't think any father can, really. I look at you and I just- No one should come to the point where they trust flesh-craving-back-from-the grave-walking-rotting-corpses more than they trust people, actual  **living** people."

 

" **R** obin-" you hesitate, trying real hard to concentrate and find the right words to say now that saying his little girl's name brought August's full attention to you, " **S** he won't- She w-won't end up l-like me, you know? She won't."

 

" **I** don't-" now it's the grown man's turn to hesitate and look for the right words, " **S** ure, I don't want her in pain like you clearly are- And, God, I mean no offence by that-" he relaxes when you give him a small but genuine smile, silently letting him know that, it's okay, you didn't take any offence to his words, you get what he's saying 'cause, hell, you don't wish the pain you're feeling on anyone, not even your worst enemies.

 

" **T** hing is... I'd love for her to grow up to be like you, kiddo." he lets a laugh slip when you cough as if you've just chocked on your own spit, clearly shocked by his words, " **Y** 'know, she told me all about how you let her know that it's okay for her to be a woman in her own terms... Well, she used words like; kicking butts and told me all about how gross boys are but, y'know, I got the bigger picture, 'specially 'cause my mom told me what you've actually said to her with, like, actually grown up words and all." you giggle at that and he smiles, biting down on his lower lip to muffle a laugh of his own, " **H** ell, at least I know I ain't gotta worry about her getting curious about boys just yet so, that's one thing less for me to worry about. Plus, I ain't never been one to encourage heterosexuality, so, y'know, s'all good." he shrugs nonchalantly, laughing. - " **A** men." you let out with a quiet but warm laugh and a wide smile to match August's.

 

" **Y** ou're a good person, y/n." he doesn't say anything but he sees it. He sees you shaking your head dismissively at his statement, the movement so subtle he would have missed it if he hadn't been such close attention to you. He sees it and, God, it takes him aback more than it probably should have yet, he doesn't say anything, pretty sure you don't need to know that he saw your body reacting so quickly yet subtly at the statement. But it hits him pretty damn hard, just how quick your body was to react, how quick your damn mind denied you the benefit of the doubt and deflected the positive comment.

 

Suddenly, August is glad that he can't read your mind because he knows for damn sure that he wouldn't like what's going on in there at this very moment. All the damn time, actually. " **Y** ou should- You should get out of this damn house, kid. Go have a look around, get some fresh air, yeah?" he doesn't wait for you to say anything, just steps out of the bathroom after he gently nudged your shoulder on his way out.

 

" **T** h-thanks, b-by the way." he stops in the doorway, looking at you in confusion, " **F** -for- For, you know- T-tugging me in when you f-found me yesterday?" - " **O** h-" he laughs gently, " **S** ure. Y'know, s'like I said, there's just some instincts you can't fight when you're a dad." he gives you a quick smile, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck before leaving the room and you realize just how tense you were when you hear the front door of the house clicking shut and your body suddenly relaxes and goes slack against the mirror behind you.

 

And, just like that, you're alone again to deal with the outbreak of thoughts happening in your mind. Though, you must admit, spending a little time with August was actually pretty damn pleasant. He made you laugh which, when you consider the fucking mess that is your mind right now, is a pretty big deal, something you desperately needed even. You let an heavy sigh, frustrated when you feel your heart fluttering at the gentleness you've been shown ever since you've been brought here...

 

Yeah, you're fucked.

 

 

 ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

 

**3:00 PM //**

 

You knew taking August's invitation to go explore the place would be a bad idea. After all, you're not here to stay so; what's the point? Other than getting a taste of everything you'll never get to have because you're scared shitless at the idea of it all. Right now, your mere presence attracts everyone's eyes, you hear whispers as you walk by a few people and, you must admit, you feel pretty damn stupid.

 

Your head is hanging low and your fingers are nervously pulling on one another, like they have a mind of their own and they're all siblings fighting for dominance on your fucking hands. You hate to admit it but; your pinkies are losing this war, it seems.

 

Looking at you, right at this instant, no one would ever even begin to imagine just how lethal you actually are. It's the oddest thing about you, you think; that contrast. You're extremely shy yet you know how to make your presence known, you're quiet yet you're not afraid to speak your damn mind if someone crosses a line, you're really patient and understanding yet your patience for people's shit runs extremely short, you're naive yet you're not oblivious to people's lies nor manipulating behaviors, you wouldn't hurt a fly yet... well, flies aren't people, now, are they?

 

In a much simpler way; there's two sides of you and, depending on how people treat you, they'll either get your true, soft, timid and gentle self or, well, they'll get your just as true, but not so natural, loud spoken, impatient and snappy self.

 

You're a human being, you have your moments, some much less glorious than others, sure, but you're more than willing to embrace every single facades of your being. You wish that you didn't always draw the line between your timidity and your outspoken personality, your need for validation and reassurance and your "to hell with this" attitude. You wish you could just embrace it all without feeling like you have two very distinct personalities, because, truth is; you do not. You're all of it, every little bit of the way. You're as human as they come, you're flawed, you have days with and some without, you're a naturally extremely shy person but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't have it in you to tell people to fuck right off when they violate your boundaries.

 

Isn't that supposed to be the most wonderful thing about being human? How one can be so damn contrasted? Not to sound poetic or anything but; what's the point in black and white? What's wrong with different shades and entirely different colors? Hell, people are fucking rainbows and you're one hell of a colorful one. Who gives a shit if your colors are "too bright" for some? If there's too many? If they don't seem to all go together in perfect harmony? Keeps weak people away I tell ya. You shouldn't have to reduce yourself to just black or just white only to appease the minds.

 

You're quiet but you can get loud, you're a crybaby but you're a tough bitch that'll rip fuckers' throat open with her fucking nails if needs be, you're shy but it doesn't mean you'll let people walk all over you, you're sensitive but you refuse to be treated like some broken porcelain doll, you're innocent and naive about a lot of things but you're the smartest bitch around when it comes to survival and what truly matters, you're soft yet you're surrounded by ripped edges. Heaven knows you're insecure, you always feel so damn small and, God, does it show in the way you carry yourself but, fucking hell, if you'll ever allow anyone to look down on you.

 

You're that person that's so shy she constantly prays for the ground to swallow her, yet, if put around the right people, she'll turn into that bubbly, talkative, squeaky and hyper person no one though she could be. So, yeah, your mere existence is a fucking contradiction, none of it makes sense yet it's the most perfect balance there is. It's the most complicated yet the easiest science there is; you're humane, in every aspect of the word.

 

Still, right now, all you're feeling is a bizarre mix between wanting to curl into a ball right there and then to shield yourself from people's stares and whispers versus a burning itch to snap and ask them what the fuck exactly it is that they're looking at. Tell them to take a fucking picture while they're at it. After weighting the possible outcomes of both options, you decide against the two of them and keep walking, head down, fingers still fighting against one another, pulling and pitching. Update; your right middle finger seems to be the Alpha of the ten.

 

" **D** amn, I was actually startin' to think you were allergic to the sun or somethin'." your head snaps up at the comment only for your eyes to land on what can only be described as a really fucking good looking man, like, "just hopped out of a men's underwear magazine" kinda hot.

 

You feel your cheeks burning, surprised at the fact that you just mentally objectified this complete stranger and that is not something you ever, ever, do. **Ever**. - " **U** h- N-no- I uh- M'not." you immediately feel even more embarrassed when he laughs at the fact that you're so startled by his sudden appearance you felt the need to clarify that you, indeed, are **not** allergic to that fucking gigantic ball of fire bearing the name of "sun".

" **N** ame's Conell, ya can call me Neil though, most people do." he introduces himself, his Irish accent punching you in the face and, before you even know why, you bring a shaky hand up to one of your cheeks, pressing the back of your fingers against the heated skin, just to check for any signs of actually fire on your fucking face and, though your skin is hot enough to fry eggs on, there's no need to alert the authorities just yet. - " **Y** /n- I uh, my name- my name's y/n."

 

_nailed it._

 

You clear your throat, your eyes finally settling back down on the concrete ground beneath your feet, your great interest in grounds, floors and fucking carpets coming back into play as you wait for a hole to open beneath you and safe you from this extremely awkward encounter... Well, it's awkward for you at least. - " **Y** /n." he repeats as if he's trying the freaking thing on for size or something, " **S** 'nice t'meetcha."

 

 _f_ _eeling not shared, get away from me. i'm uncomfortable and i'm pretty sure i'm about to cry._

 

You lift your head back up slightly, enough to have him in your line of sight again and you immediately regret doing so when you see him just standing there, looking at you with a small smirk playing on his lips. It's not predatory by any means, it's a little cocky and playful at the same time, it has that boyish cuteness to it. Nothing like the ones Negan gives you though, the ones that make your legs shake and heat pool between your thighs.

 

That man has the brightest pair of emerald eyes you've ever seen, light fawn hair cut in that quite generic cut, faded on the sides and left longer on top of his head, it suits him though. He's pretty tall, taller than you that much is pretty damn clear even from a distance, there's a few days old stubble covering the lower part of his face, light enough so that it doesn't actually completely hide the skin underneath. Skin which, by the way, is a light fair tanned tone and, you'll be damned, the body said skin is covering is actually really muscular and lean.

 

You also take enough time to notice that he has ridiculously hot looking bowed legs and that's when you realize that you've been starring big time and advert your gaze, earning a chuckle for Neil. Yep, of course he's noticed, how could he not? - " **S** ay; August sent me t'ask ya if you wanted to join us for a quick supply run? Ya don't have to, just though ya could use some fresh air, s'all."

 

You smile a little at that. August didn't just brush your words off, he heard you loud and clear when you told him that you'll go and make a quick run to bring them some medical supplies back and, clearly, he also hasn't forgotten that you never technically told him you didn't want him to tag along for the ride.

 

Yeah, it's been a while since you've last went off with a group of people but, oddly enough, it appeases you to know that you won't be all alone. Your body is still very weak and so is your mind, no matter how hard you're trying to distract it, deep down, you know damn well that you're still falling apart and that, at some point, you're gonna have to deal with it, that you won't be able to ignore it for much longer, won't be able to push it aside.

 

But, right now, you have something to do. A purpose, something to do with your day, you can actually be useful and that's exactly what you needed; to feel like you're still good for something. - " **O** -Okay. Y-yeah, sure- I'll tag along if- y'know- if that's okay and-"

 

" **F** 'course that's okay, darlin'." he claps his hands together, making jump slightly at the unexpected sound, " **F** irst thing's first though, let's get you somethin' t'eat 'cause August's mom promised him an ass-kickin' if he lets ya go another hour without feedin' ya, so! Come along my child, let's get that lil' body o' yours some' to keep it on its feet, yeah? Yeah." he doesn't really wait for an answer, just nods his head, silently telling you to follow him along and, for some reason, you do without overthinking it as you usually would. Yeah, you're that exhausted, your mind doesn't even seem to be able to remember that it's supposed to protect you anymore.

 

You follow close on Neil's heels, your head still low, your fingers now nervously pulling on the bandages covering each of your palms but, as you keep on walking, you slowly find the courage to actually look around and realize something; people aren't actually looking at you the way you were convinced they were, not at all.

 

You actually see some of them waving and smiling at you as you walk by and, yeah, some of them do seem to be whispering curiously about you as you go along but, then again, you understand that they're probably wondering who the hell you are and what the hell you're doing here, if you're here to stay, if you're nice or a complete bitch, what brought you here or more like who brought you here, they probably have to shit ton of questions and you can't blame them because, in all honesty, so do you. 

 

The sounds of kids laughing suddenly catches your attention and you freeze in your steps when your eyes land on Robin laughing and running around with a bunch of other kids, all seem to be around her age, some may even be younger than her. You remember how normal the sound of kids running around and bursting out laughing used to be but, now, it seems so... Out of place, like it doesn't belong here, not anymore. It should make you happy, right? You should be relieved to know that there's still kids the world's left untouched, left to grow up peacefully, away from all the horror there is outside of the walls they're living in but... it just doesn't.

 

The sight of kids laughing and playing around? That's all it's always been for you; **a sight** , something to watch from the window of your bedroom, the park in front of your damn house taunting you. As if you didn't already feel shitty enough, the fact that you can't seem to find the sightliest drop of happiness or relief as you watch those kids happily be kids only seems to fuck with your mood some more and, God knows, that's the last thing you needed. - " **M** ust be one hell of a mind fuck for ya, huh?" Neil's voice suddenly pulls you out of your contemplation and your head snaps in the direction of his voice to find his eyes fixed on the kids you've been watching.

 

" **I** uh- Y-yeah- Yeah, I guess- I guess it kind of is." you let out with a nervous laugh, guilt hitting you full force now. - " **I** know how y'feel, you know?" he's now looking back at you but you're quick to advert your eyes, " **Y** 'feel like this type of shit doesn't really belong on this damned Earth anymore, s'that it?" your eyes widen and you carefully look back up at him, your words getting caught in your throat and he seems to realize that, " **Y** eah, you and me both, darlin'."

 

" **I** don't- I- Wh-" your cheeks grow red with embarrassment and frustration as it seems that your brain and your mouth are having a hard time working with one another, " **D** -don't you think- I mean-"

 

" **T** hat that's a fucked up way t'think? F'course I do." he lets an amused laugh out when pure confusion flashes in your eyes at his statement, " **B** ut, shit, when you're so damn used t'livin' out there?" he slightly nods his head towards the gates keeping the reality of the outside world away from the people leaving behind them, " **Y** ou can't blame people for not bein' able to fuckin' bother with good things anymore, y'know? 'Cause that type o' shit? It doesn't fuckin' exist nor belong out there, ain't nothin' good for anyone to get a grip on, never for long, and that'd fuck everyone in their right mind up, darlin'."

 

" **H** ow- How long have you been out-out there f-for?" you curiously ask. - " **L** ong enough for me t'be uncomfortable as hell 'round folks but not long enough for it t'be all I've ever known since the world went t'shit." his eyes carefully search your face, " **S** o, I can't even begin to imagine how fuckin' weird this all must be for ya, darlin'."

 

" **W** h-What makes you-" - " **I** ain't stupid, love. You'd do good t'remember that. Now, c'mon, let's get ya somethin' t'eat before August starts busting my ass 'bout how I'm always late and all that blah blah he's got goin' on."

 

You laugh softly at that, getting a smile for the Irish man as he carefully puts his hand out for you to take or reject. Hesitantly, you bring a shaky hand to his but only grab his index and middle finger instead of his entire hand though he doesn't seem to want to question it, he just lets you do whatever you're comfortable with and you're thankful for that 'cause you don't feel like explaining to a perfect stranger that you've always been so damn concerned and self-conscious about coming off as too needy that you've never even been able to take someone's hand without feeling like you might be pissing them off with your constant need for reassurance and affection...

 

Yeah, you're not having this discussion with a fucking stranger, hell, you're not having it with anyone, ever.

 

As Neil walks you to wherever it is he's planning on bringing you, you can't help but realize just how odd this all feels. How oddly calm you are. Anyone would be at peace with being calm because, after all, who in their right mind finds comfort in being on edge twenty-four-seven? Well... You do. Being on edge is what kept you afloat all those years and not just after the world went to shit, no; it also protected you after your dad passed.

 

Overthinking shit is underrated, really. Sure, overthinking a situation is a sure way of going in completely stressed and tensed like a bitch but you'd much rather be proved wrong and then relax and make yourself comfortable with whatever situation you've been put in rather than going in feeling like nothing could go wrong because, after all, why be pessimist and overthink shit when you could just go with the flow and than be faced with some nasty shit you didn't see coming because you were too busy kissing the world's ass and picking flowers on your way there.

 

You're not a negative person, hell, you're actually quite far from it. You don't believe in bad people, not even after all the shit they've put you through thorough the years and, after all, if someone should ever get a freebie for hating everyone and everything, it should be you. But, the thing is, you don't want that kind of hatred in your heart, you don't want to waste your time and energy on being bitter and angry all the damn time, it just seems so pointless. Then again, maybe that's why you have so much empathy for someone like Negan.

 

Here's this man, always playing the big bad wolf with his toothy grin and twisted ways, always fucking around with that whole "alpha" shit men seem to be so fond of, especially nowadays, but you somehow see right through his shit. You don't see a bad man in him and, yeah, maybe that makes you even more naive than you already are but, really, if you look at him with a completely neutral eye, he's just a man who's not afraid in the slightest of his most primal instincts, a man who's not afraid to get angry, at all, and, above all else, a man filled with bitterness and a broken as hell mind.

 

Truth is; you're as afraid of being hard as he is of being soft and maybe, just maybe, that's why you two click together so damn well. You're both broken all over the fucking place, both have missing pieces, you more than him, and it just feels like his broken pieces are the only ones that'll ever be able to fall into place with yours to make them whole again and vice versa. And, damn, is that unhealthy as shit.

 

" **A** lright!" you jump, **again** , when Neil, _once again_ , claps his hand together, pulling you out of your deep thoughts, " **D** amn, love." he laughs, making your cheeks burn in embarrassment, " **Y** 'got, like, a hands clapping phobia or some'? S'that even a thing? What the hell d'you even call that? Damn... M'not gonna be able t'sleep now."

 

You let out a soft giggle, and he smiles as his attempt to make you laugh seems successful, " **Y** -you just- You just catch me off guards is all. D-Don't make fun of me." - " **J** ust wanted to know what m'lady would like t'eat is all." he says with a small smile, clearly trying his damnedest not to full-on grin at your flushed state.

 

As if on cue, you finally look around and realize that you're not outside anymore but in someone's house- Well, what you assume to be **his** house. The sudden change of scenery almost makes your head spin, you were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't even realize you were walking into this house nor up the damn stairs leading up to the front porch of said house and it's almost like you've just appeared here with a freaking jump-cut.

 

_meh, if you ask me, we should just be thankful we didn't fall flat on our ass on the way here, honey._

 

" **I** uh- I-" you cough, the dryness of your throat catching up to you after talking more than you probably should have with an injured and raw throat, " **S** orry, I- Shoot, okay, that actually hurts." you bring your right hand up to your throat, pushing your fingers into the soft skin there, trying to massage the soreness away but it doesn't really do much other than make you realize just how badly hurt the inside of your throat must be.

 

" **S** hit, your throat hurtin' ya, love?" you quickly nod your head as he burrows his lower lip between his teeth, thinking, " **R** ight, Astrid said you've been quite sick yesterday- Hold on, got some' that should help ya with that a lil'." you silently watch as Neil moves around his kitchen, doing God knows what, and you take the opportunity to look around the house while he's busy.

 

It's a small, cozy house, like the one you've been giving residence in when you've been brought into the community, his just has a little bit more personality. You curiously walk over to his living room, an excited squeal accidentally slipping out of your mouth when you spot a turntable sitting next to the comfy looking couch and a wooden box filled with vinyls sitting on the floor right next to it. The high-pitched noise you've made seems to have caught Neil's attention and you see him watching you from the kitchen, his arms on top of the bar counter-top that keeps the room open to the rest of the house, a smile on his lips when he sees you standing in from of the turntable.

 

" **S** -Sorry, I- Oh, God-" you mumble, an apparent blush on your cheeks, embarrassed that he's actually heard the damn squeal you've let out. He lets out a soft laugh, " **Y** 'like vinyls?" - " **Y** eah!" and, just like that, if your freaking face wasn't a crimson red before, it sure is now, **"I** mean- Y-Yeah, I uh- I really like those, they're r-really cool- I think."

 

" **H** ell yeah, they are." you're too busy focusing on the boots covering your feet to notice the amused grin plastered on the Irish man's face, " **Y** 'can take a look if you want, darlin'." - " **Y** -You don't mind?" - " **K** nock yourself out, love." he disappears back into the kitchen when the microwave beeps and you're glad he does right in time not to catch you jumping at the high-pitched sound the damn kitchen apparel let out.

 

Being so damn jumpy isn't really unusual to you, after all, that's what always being on edge does to your body, always keeps it ready to react fast to any sound or movement but, today is different. This is a different kind of "jumpy", you're not on edge because of your survival instincts, no; you're on edge because you're afraid and feeling more vulnerable than you've ever felt before, it almost feels like you're right back to being the fragile little girl you used to be and worked so damn hard to break away from.

 

You try to keep your mind off just how scared you actually are and decide to take Neil's invitation to look through his vinyls. You sit down on the wooden floor, legs crossed, and silently go through his collection, silently gushing over his music taste. Sadly enough, your shaky hands are a constant reminder of your current state of mind and, well, you can't really do much about that now, can you? Though, you have to admit, you're seriously starting to contemplate gluing them down and learn how to live without them.

 

" **T** here ya go, darlin'." this time, Neil's voice doesn't startle you since you've heard his heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you. You look up at him from your spot on the floor before standing up and eyeing the steaming mug of milk he's handing you. - " **T** h-thank you." you slowly take it from him, careful not to make contact with his fingers as you do, afraid that it might make you flinch and end up dropping the damn mug and is clearly hot content on the poor guy.

 

" **D** on't mention it, love. S'just milk and some honey, well, actually, a shit ton of honey." he laughs, " **S** hould soothe the burn and help with the soreness a little, other than that, s'not much else we can do but wait for this shit t'heal. Sorry, darlin'." He silently invites you to sit on the couch with him and you do, leaving a safe distance between the two of you which he doesn't fail to notice but doesn't make any comment on, clearly understanding what you must be feeling like right now.

 

" **S** o-" you both say at the same time, making each other laugh quietly, " **S** orry." again, you both let the word out at the same time and your laughter grow a little louder, tension slowly making itself smaller. You settle on sipping on your milk, silently telling Neil he can go right ahead and speak up if he wishes to.

 

" **I** had the hardest time getting used to all this shit." he starts, looking down at his hands as he speaks and you avert your gaze and focus on the milk in your mug, the strong but sweet smell of honey distracting you, " **G** ot so used to being on my own even though it wasn't by choice. I just... Was, y'know?" with a small frown, he clears his throat, "Point is; I get it- Well, at least a little. I think I get how you feel, darlin'. That shit was weird as hell for me so I can't even begin to imagine what that's gotta like for ya, someone who actually enjoys her solitude and all, ain't nothin' wrong with that, s'quite admirable actually. It'd shit myself nowadays if I had to live outside those walls."

 

You can't help the small laugh that gets past your lips and quickly apologize with a small smile which Neil is quick to return, " **O** h yeah, make fun o' me all you want, lil' lady, but it takes some shit I just ain't got to be able to survive out there. Which, honestly, is why everyone's been lookin' at you weird an'all, they're just afraid 'cause, goddamn, you're just a kid - no offence - yet you did what none of 'em could ever do; you've been livin' with no one, nothing to protect ya but yourself... In other words; you kick ass and that's bond to give you a rep pretty damn quickly 'round here, love."

 

You finish your milk in silence, Neil cracking a genuinely funny joke every now and then, making you laugh and, on more than one occasion, almost choke on your damn drink. You don't know what August told his people about you exactly but you try not to dwell too much on it, what's the point anyways? The only way you'll know for sure is if you ask the man himself and, honestly, you're not too sure how you're supposed to do that without making it weird. Or maybe it wouldn't be, you don't know, no fucking clue.

 

 

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As you reach the small group of people waiting at the gates, you don't miss the smile on August's lips and you give him a small one in return before stopping in your tracks to look down at your boots, suddenly nervous at the idea of introducing yourself to those people you don't know shit about and who don't know shit about you either. No matter how scary the world might be nowadays, nothing will ever be as scary as having to interact with other human beings to you, ever.

 

" **H** ey." you hear an all too familiar voice quietly say and your head snaps up, your eyes falling on a really distressed looking Daryl, " **H** ow's it goin', mini Rovia." he adds and, though you can tell he's clearly nervous because of what happened with Jesus, you don't miss the small smirk playing on his lips at the nickname he gave you.

 

Honestly, you're unsure what startles you most; Daryl's presence or the joke he's just cracked. Yes, what happened with Jesus is weird and sudden and, honestly, pretty damn scary but, for a reason you can't quite put your finger on just yet, it also feels ridiculously good knowing that something good actually happened to you, not matter how fucking weird. All in all, no matter how messy it's all been, you've been reunited with someone who actually gave, and still does give, a damn about you and, really, who are you to turn your back on something like that?

 

" **Y** ou do realize that my first name's always been Rovia, right? Jesus being my uncle doesn't suddenly make it-" - " **A** bsolutely necessary for me to remind you that you two are related? Hell yeah, it does." you give him a playful punch on the shoulder though there's a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

 

He allows himself to laugh along with you and finally relaxes, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth the second your body crashes against his, your face hiding into the crook of his shoulder, your arms snaked beneath his and around his torso, his broader ones wrapped all the way around your smaller frame, holding you close to him. You let your hands rest against his back, feeling the muscles there tensing at the contact the hunter's not quite used to but still welcomes. - " **M** 'sorry, y/n. If it can make ya feel better though, that shit was a kick in the balls to me too." he quietly says against your temple, making you laugh into his shoulder.

 

" **I** 'm not mad at you... Or at him, for that matter." you whisper, only for him to hear, " **I** just- I needed some time, you know? It's a lot to process and- with everything that's already happened, I just- I got overwhelmed, you know?" he stays quiet and lets his hands lazily rub your back, " **S** ay, what the heck are you doing here, anyways? Are you stalking me now, Dixon?" he laughs, the sound vibrating in his chest and against your temple, and you smile at the familiarity of the sound.

 

" **Y** eah, got a room full of picture of you back home, too." he jokes and you pray to whoever might be listening that he didn't feel your body tensing at his words, your mind immediately going to the sick pictures you've came to three days ago, " **S** eriously though, m'just here to help out and also- I kinda wanted to check on you after yesterday- I know you said-"

 

" **I** t's okay, Daryl." you give his cheek a quick kiss, " **T** hank you." - " **F** or what?" - " **A** lways being there for me, even when I don't want you to be 'cause I'm stubborn as hell." he laughs at your statement and tightens his grip around you, silently telling you that he doesn't take offence to your stubbornness. Hell, that'll be pretty damn hypocritical of him to as he's just as stubborn as you, if not more so.

 

" **H** i, y/n." you hear yet another familiar, smooth yet the right amount of scruffy, voice call out to you and your eyes look around above Daryl's shoulder to land on none other than Rick Grimes standing a few feet behind the hunter, smiling a little, " **H** ow're you feelin'g, kid?"

 

" **O** h, yeah, Rick's there too, by the way." Daryl adds with a small laugh, slightly embarrassed that he was too caught up in you to actually remember that he didn't come alone, " **M** y bad." he mumbles.

 

" **I** uh- I- I don't-" you scramble, somehow overwhelmed by the man's presence and, though you're not too sure why, you find yourself crawling out of Daryl's hold and, onto clumsy feet, walk over to Rick with a dizzy head and he reaches out to secure you as you're barely able to stand on your own, your body still aching and clearly not too sure how to function properly at the moment which is just your luck because you're pretty sure that you look like a freaking baby giraffe trying to take its first steps while wearing high heels at the moment.

 

You're pretty sure you hear Daryl telling you to take it easy but his words don't quite reach you. Finally, you get your hands around Rick and pull yourself into him, nuzzling your head against his chest and, though he is, rightfully so, surprised by your sudden burst of affection, he gets a hold of himself and responds by carefully putting one of his hand behind your head and let the other chastely rest in the middle of your back.

 

" **I** t's good to see you too, kid." though you can't see his face, you hear the smile in his voice and it reassures you because you don't even understand the sudden need you felt to hug him like you are right now and, you have to admit, the second your hands touched him, you've realized just what you were doing and only went with it because he didn't freak out like you silently were and you felt like you were already in too deep anyways.

 

" **I** s-Is everyone okay? Back in Alexandria? You guys okay?" you ask him but it all comes out as a silent plea for him to actually tell you that, yes, everyone is okay, that you didn't walk away from staying with them, with Daryl, for nothing. - " **Y** eah- Yeah, we're all doing alright, y/n. How 'bout you? You look like hell, kiddo."

 

" **Y** eah." you let out a nervous laugh into his chest, " **I** uh- I just got back. Sucky place, I don't recommend it." Rick gently pushes away from you, keeping you at arms-length and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious under his gaze as he takes you all in. You can see his eyes narrowing when they fall on certain patches of skin and, since you're wearing a tee-shirt, he gets to see all the bruises on the delicate skin inside your arms and he sure as shit catches the angry red marks around both of your wrists, the skin there still slightly swollen though it's nothing compared how bad it originally was.

 

He takes in the few scabs covering the wounds the cuffs digging into your wrists, leaving the skin raw and shredded, left there before his eyes travel to your wrapped up palms and then back up to your neck where the hickeys the sick fuck you stumbled upon left you now look like mean, dark bruises on the soft skin. His eyes carefully search yours before landing on your brow bone, inspecting the stitched up skin there from afar but, if you didn't know any better, you'd say that he's perfectly capable to see every single details even from a distance and it's quite nerve racking if you're being honest.

 

Thankfully, you're saved by August as he loudly speaks up, getting people's attention, " **A** lright, people, here's what's going down; it's already four so we only have, what, three hours max left before sun down? Which means we're only making a quick sweep out there, nothing drastic, alright?" his words are received with silent nods, " **O** kay, so, y'all know how it goes out there. We stick together, look out for one another and we only use our guns if and only if absolutely necessary, got that?" the few people you assume you'll be going out on the run with enthusiastically agree with their leader's instruction but you know that his last words were more directed to you than they were to his people, you're not stupid.

 

While Daryl and Rick help Neil and August make sure guns are fully loaded and the safeties are on, that you're stacked up on water and a few other supplies, you awkwardly get to know the two other persons who tagged along for the run and, though it's awkward to you, it doesn't seem to be to them, oddly enough.

 

There's Lulu; she's that petite heavily tattooed and pierced girl, the deep black ink of her tattoos contrasting really smoothly with her light, peach toned skin. She's rocking black buzz-cut hair which lets you see that she also has a few tattoos on the right side of her head, her eyes a soft yet deep blue and she's wearing gauges on both ears, all in all, you kind of started to crush the second she greeted you with the sweetest of smiles. Her demeanor is as sweet as her looks are badass.

 

" **Y** eah, you probably don't remember me, which, you know, is totally fine considering you were out cold, but, yeah, I was there when August found you and- Well, yeah. Hi." is how Ryan introduces himself to you and, in all honesty, you can't say that you can't relate to the level of anxiety he seems to be going through as he speaks to you because hashtag same.

 

Just like Lulu's, Ryan's appearance is way rougher than his personality actually is, he's this tall, clearly muscular, but not overly so, dude. He has ridiculously luscious looking light brown strands of hair falling on his face as the rest of them are messily tied into a bun on top of his head, his face looks like it's been sculpted by a freaking Greek god himself, chestnut brown eyes, plump lips, jawline and cheekbones for days and all. You spot a few mean looking scars on his arms and even a quite impressive one going from his throat down to his solar plexus and disappearing beneath his tank top, he also had one of his left cheek, it looks like a cut but you don't dwell on it because, after all, you're not doing any better on that department.

 

Turns out, speaking to those people isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be, they're pretty laid back despite the fact that you're strangers to one another, they don't seem to mind your presence and it kind of bugs you because; who can be so damn calm about meeting new people nowadays? It's weird to you and you're starting to believe that there might be something wrong with you, that they're actually behaving perfectly normally and you just have the mind of a freaking caveman or something.

 

 

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**4:20** **PM** **//**

 

It's been fifteen minutes since you've left what you now know is called "the Shore", simply because there's this huge old store in the middle of the small town bearing that name so August decided to name his community after it, and it seems like everyone just naturally fell into place; August and Neil are walking at the very front, Ryan and Lulu in the middle and Daryl, Rick and yourself close the march, the three of you actually falling behind the rest of the group just so that you're able to talk without being bothered and not bothering anyone in return.

 

" **Y** -You guys do this often?" you ask, curious to know how the two groups even know one another. - " **M** eh, we just land a hand when we ain't got better shit to be doin', really." Daryl vaguely explains, clearly not too excited about being out here when he could be doing something else.

 

" **J** esus introduced us to one another." Rick explains more thoroughly, his eyes on you as he walks in-between you and the hunter, " **T** hey've really helped out with Maggie and still do whenever she needs anything so, in return, we land them a hand from time to time with supply runs and whatnot. We used to go to doctor Carlson but- You know."

 

" **Y** ou don't want to risk s-seeing Negan again." you state, more than you ask, in a quiet whisper, like you're talking about freaking Voldemort or something. - " **I** never-" he hesitates for a second, " **I** 've never thanked you for- Y'know, for-" a bitter scoff from Daryl makes Rick go quiet and, though you can't see it because he turned away from you, you know the ex-sheriff is now glaring at his best man.

 

You laugh softly at the bitch-face competition happening between the two men when you turn to face them as you walk, " **I** don't regret it." you nonchalantly announce, uncaring of the deadly glare the hunter shoots your way, " **I** don't." you insist, " **S** 'for the best, no one dies and-" - " **A** nd we all live happily ever after, right?" Daryl bitterly spits and, with just how vulnerable and bare you're feeling at the moment, you can already feel tears making their way up to your eyes.

 

You drop your head low, frustrated at just how easily upset you've just gotten, it doesn't fucking make sense. You're used to this, you know Daryl is hot blooded, especially when it comes to the people he loves, it shouldn't hurt like it does and all you can do to explain your reaction is to blame it on your fragile state of mind. - " **W** hatever, Dixon." you spit under your breath and the fact that you use his last name is a dead giveaway for him to know that his words hurt you.

 

Daryl is about to speak when grunts keep him from doing so and a dozen walkers that seem to have crawled out of the fucking forest's ass appear on the road, bumping into a few abandoned cars in their hurry to get to you. - " **S** tupid freaking-" you don't finish your sentence and instead run up to the front of the group where August and Neil are already deep in business. Reaching Lulu and Ryan, you all get back to back, protecting one another and you almost freeze when you realize just how easily you've fallen into place, how naturally it came to you to look out for those people though you don't even know them enough to actually care.

 

You don't really dwell on it though, now's not the time for that, you'll have plenty of time to overthink this shit later on, right now, you got shit to be doing, things which demand your full attention and not a drop less. Your body naturally falls into its fighting stance, your ears perking up, your eyes focused and your hand gripping the handle of your butterfly knife with a white-knuckled grip. - " **E** veryone doin' okay?" August asks as he puts yet another walker down.

 

" **W** e're good, you just focus on you, Jay." Lulu says as she shoves the impressive blade of her machete in the middle of a walker's rotten head, the sharp blade effortlessly getting past the tissues covering its skull and breaking the bone to get right through the brain, the walker's body finally going limp like it's supposed to be and stay before heavily falling on the road.

 

As for you, you get lost in what you're doing, your left hand reaching out to grab the back of a walker's head to bring it dangerously close to you before swiftly bringing your right hand up to shove the blade of your knife right into the side of reanimated corpse's head, its bloodshot and milky eyes on you the whole time before you let go and let the now, finally, lifeless body hit the ground at your feet and you repeat the same process over and over again, the only thing changing being the force you're using each time you push the blade of your knife into a walker's head.

 

With each passing second, your system creates more and more adrenaline for your heart to pump into your blood and, the more adrenaline there is for your body to process, the harder it gets for you to hold your emotions back and that's usually when all your anger comes out; when you have no other choice but to let it because you're not in control anymore.

 

Minutes pass but they may as well have been seconds to you when, finally, everything goes silent except for the heavy panting you all seem to have going for yourselves. You're pretty sure you hear August checking on everyone, making sure no one got bit or injured in the process but your ears are ringing so loudly it almost hurts and you can barely make the words out. The bandages on your hands are now soaked in blood, at least on the surface, and there's a few splatters on your forearms just like you're pretty damn sure there is blood all over your face since you can actually feel and smell it.

 

You're slick with sweat, your heart thumping in your ears when the ringing finally stops and it feels like the damn thing is about to burst out of your chest like you're in a freaking Alien movie or something. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, your whole body shaking because of the insane amount of adrenaline its just received and you know that you're gonna have to get it all out of your system, you freaking need to, but you just don't know how to. It almost scares you how strongly your body is reacting to it, it's like it received way more than it actually needed and now its freaking the fuck out which makes your mind freak out as well and, goddamn, you did not need this shit today.

 

" **Y** /N!" you hear Daryl call out and you quickly turn around, your eyes immediately falling on his. - " **W** hat?!" you snap though you didn't mean to. God, you want to break everything in sight so badly it physically hurts to contain it. - " **W** hat, what?! I've been calling you for two fuckin' minutes straight! The hell's going on with you?" - " **N** othing, okay!? Nothing's going on with me! Excuse me for having a shit day which, by the way, is only another one to be added to the list of those I've had before hand!"

 

A weak grunt makes you turn back around and you spot yet another walker, tumbling all over the place as it tries to walk into the heels the person was wearing better she died and- Holy fuck. - " **W** hat the hell?" you hear Neil say, " **O** k, I don't wanna sound like an ass or nothin', 'cause, y'know, bless her soul and whatever the fuck but- Who the fuck wears high-heels and a fuckin' dress in the middle of the apocalypse? I mean- right? C'mon, I can't be the only one on this, right? You guys? Right?"

 

" **N** eil,"  Lulu starts, "shut up." though you don't see it, too busy looking at the walker still making its way towards you, Lulu's eyes fall on you and so does August's before they exchange a look, unsure if they should say something or not because, clearly, you knew that person before they died... Boy, if only they knew.

 

"You'd be surprised." is all you say, and it's all but a whisper, before silently walking towards the walker to meet it halfway before grabbing the back of its head, your hand tangling in its hair, and lifting its head up to take a look at it- At her, " **S** herry- Can't say I'm really surprised. M'sorry though." you whisper, the others unable to hear your words as they're cover by her erratic grunts and the sound of her jaw snapping at you, trying to get a piece of flesh off of you.

 

By the looks of it, she's turned pretty damn recently, she doesn't smell as strongly as the others do and her skin hasn't even begun to deteriorate like it would have had she turned a while ago. No, this is really recent. You're used to this shit enough to say that it's barely a day old, two days max. Hell, it could have happened last night for all you know. - " **Y** /n?" you hear Daryl call for you again but, this time around, he keeps his voice gentle and quiet.

 

" **I** got it." you immediately answer, probably too quickly but you can't really be bothered with the details right now. You sigh deeply because; no, you can't say you're gonna miss her and, no, you can't say you're deeply affected or even remotely upset about her death but, still, putting someone you knew was alive hours ago down never was something easy for you to do. They just look so- human, still. It kind of fucks with your head, freshly turned people don't look the same way months or even weeks old walkers do and their bodies most definitely aren't the same thing to be dealing with.

 

Walkers that have been around for a while all have rotten flesh and bones, they weight nothing because of the lack of food and the general lack of, well, everything in their rotting body, there's nothing really left in there anymore. The recent ones though? They still have a weight to them, their bones are still as strong and thick as a breathing, living person and their strength is definitely something else, too. You generally don't like putting walkers down, the thought that those used to be people, just like you, with a mind of their own, dreams and hopes for the future just tugs at your heartstrings but, with the "fresh" ones, it's even more complicated, when, with the more... Freaky looking ones, it's easier to forget what and who they used to be.

 

You bring your right hand up, tightening your grab on the back of Sherry's head before pushing the blade of your knife on the left side of her head. There's so much force in your movement that the sharp blade goes right through the woman's thick skull, warm blood profusely pouring down on your forearm as you hold the knife in her head for a few seconds before shoving it out and carelessly letting Sherry's now lifeless body thump down on the ground. You shake your hand around to get rid of the excess of blood on it, sending some flying all over the damn place, before wiping the red liquid off of your knife's blade on your tee-shirt and tug it back into your jeans.

 

You turn back around as if nothing happened because, really, nothing special actually did happen, not for you at least, and you shrug your shoulders dismissively at the looks everyone seems to be giving you, " **Y** -You guys alright?" - " **A** re you?" August asks, his voice calm and gentle as it usually is. - " **Y** -Yeah. Yeah, m'okay." you give him a quick smile before nodding your head towards the road, silently asking if you all can just move on now instead of making a big deal out of what happened and he quickly catches on before telling everyone to get moving in case some more walkers decide to come around.

 

You give him a thankful look when he looks back at you, making sure you're actually okay, and he gives you a friendly wink before catching back up with Neil in front of the group. You fall back behind with Rick and Daryl, this time around you're walking between the two men instead of having Rick in the middle. Silence takes over the three of you but it's not uncomfortable or heavy, it's just there because, well, what the hell there is to talk about, really?

 

Without once breaking the silence, Daryl slips his hand in yours, reassuringly squeezing it though he's careful not to put too much pressure on it, aware of your injured palm. Your head snaps to the side, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights but your instincts are quick to take over for you and you carefully let your head fall against his shoulder. He moves just as carefully as you when he lifts his arm up, never letting go of your hand, and brings it around your back to rest on your waist, pushing you onto his side and you're quick to nuzzle into him, your head comfortably resting against his chest and, just like that, without a word needing to be said, all the tension from earlier just disappears and everything falls right back into place like it always does between you two. 

 

Even from a distance, your sensitive sense of hearing lets you catch the conversation August and Neil are having in the front of the march, " **D** ude, seriously, she was wearin' lipstick, I mean-" - " **N** eil, bud, listen, I love you and all but you really gotta stop talking about that shit, alright?" - " **H** ow can you not be talkin' about that shit, Jay? C'mon, man." - " **W** ell, it's real easy, y'see, I just- I do this thing called; keeping my mouth shut and not spiting words out to let everybody know what's going on in my mind at the moment and-" - " **I** feckin' hate ya." - " **N** ah, you don't. You know you love me, man. I'm a pleasure to be around, don't lie to yourself like that." August gets a punch on the shoulder for that though the two men then share a laugh.

 

" **O** i, you two lovebirds 'bout done over there?" Lulu teases winning a middle finger from both men, the movement so synchronized, you know these two must be pretty damn close, " **L** ove ya too, assholes." - " **T** hanks, bitch." Neil says with a loving smile, the interaction between the three making you laugh softly as you nuzzle further against Daryl's body.

 

The fun is short lived though, Rick is quick to remind them just exactly where they are and, he does have a point; you're all pretty damn exposed out here and not just to walkers, the only reason why you're not all that worried about people right now is because Daryl and Rick are right here and you trust those men with your entire being and know damn well just how capable they are. Still, seeying August and his people interact the way they do, how simple it all seems to be with them... It's almost cruel, really, how much it tempts you to be part of it all.

 

Goddamn, you hate how messy and unclear your mind is lately.

 

 

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**6:00** **PM** **//**

 

Finally back from the run, you're exhausted, sore and feeling kinda gross in all the best ways. Your arms are wrapped around Rick and Daryl, one around each man's neck, you body almost limp from exhaustion and the pain its been going through these past few days. You can hear Daryl mumbling bitterly about how reckless you can be and how stupid what you did was but you don't pay too much mind to it because those are just the words of someone who cares about someone else and he's just got scared for your well being though he knows you did the right thing.

 

A walker almost ripped Lulu's throat right off and you had to break a window to get to her but, in your hurry to do so, you didn't take the time to overthink it and just shoved your bare first against the thick glass to break it and, boy, break it you fucking did. You've then managed to slip into the opening which was surrounded by broken glass, some of it digging into the skin of your waist through the fabric of your t-shirt and some digging into your bare arms, shredding your skin to pieces in the process. Even your face fell victim to the shattered glass and you now bear a deep cut right in the hollow of your cheekbone which you've tried to make a joke out of by saying that you've now had earned the title of "contouring queen" but no one really laughed except for Neil but, hey, one laugh is better than none, right? No, not when Daryl shot you multiple times with his eyes.

 

The thing is; she might be a stranger to you but, still, every fiber of your being screamed for you to keep Lulu safe. Even when she was completely out of every one's reach, you knew she technically wasn't out of yours because, out of all the four other people around, all which happened to be pretty damn imposing men, only you could possibly fit through that one small window separating Lulu from the rest of the group and so, you didn't think twice about it, you just went for it. Heaven knows, you're not one to give up that easily, especially not on people, doing so goes against every cells of your being. Every. Single. One.

 

You don't really care that it brought you Daryl's wrath, it was worth risking it. It was worth risking it because, goddammit, you got there in time and you fought with her through that shit storm. It was worth it because, when it was all said and done, the way she hugged you, held you so damn tight and thanked you over and over again with tears in her eyes, letting you know just how terrified she was at the thought of dying, gutted by those drooling freaks you're forced to live alongside with and, God, if you're not thankful that she didn't have to go that way, at least not today, and that you didn't have to witness it when, really, that's exactly what would have happened if you'd stood there and just gave up on her so, yeah, it was all worth it. It was fucking worth it because you got there in time, for fuck's sake.

 

You know all too well what's going through Daryl's mind right now, he thinks you did what you did because you don't care, because you're not afraid to die, you don't crave it either, you're just indifferent to it all and he hates you for that. He hates you for that because he loves you with all he's got and he can't bear to see you being so damn reckless with your life, like it doesn't fucking matter, like you don't matter.

 

Both Rick and Daryl's support suddenly leave you and you swear you're about to fall flat on your goddamn face but you're gently yet firmly sat down on the same examination table you were on two nights ago, just as bloody and sore as you are today and the déjà-vu feeling of it all could have made you smile if it wasn't for the painful throbbing shooting through your entire body at the moment.

 

_your body's gonna give up on your sorry ass if you keep going that way, honey, just saying..._

 

You hear voices raising, especially Daryl's and a whole bunch of bickering happening until one voice breaks it all off and you swear you've heard it somewhere before, you're just not sure where or when, " **A** lright, that's enough! Y'all get your asses out of my infirmary, right now!" - " **H** ey-" the hunter tries to protest.

 

" **Y** ou too, Dixon." the woman says, she lets out a soft sigh, " **P** lease, I need space and, goddamn, she needs calm right now." there's a pause there and you know that's probably because Daryl must be looking at her like she grew a second head, " **I** 'll take of her, that much I can promise you, Daryl. And, I swear, I'll let you know what's what the second I'll be done taking care of her but, first, you gotta let me do my job, alright? C'mon, I should already be tending to her, you're just making this hard when it doesn't fucking need to be." - " **W** e'll wait outside, you do your thang and you let us know if anythan' comes up." you hear Rick say, his accent more pronounced than it usually is.

 

You rub your eyes with your bandaged hands, the cuts in your palms now being the least of your worries, and you hear the door of the cozy infirmary open and click shut just as a yawn escapes you and you slap a hand down on your mouth before you make a show of your esophagus for whoever the woman in the room with you is. - " **T** ough day, uh?" she teases with a gentle laugh as she walks in front of you before sitting down on a high stool, her knees right below the table you're sitting down on as she absently opens packages of sterilized gauze and a bunch of other medical supplies.

 

" **Y** -yeah." you look at the medical tray she has by her side and can't help the dry laugh you let out, " **G** ood thing we went out to replace all the supplies you guys already wasted on me, uh?" - " **A** ctually," she stops what she's doing and looks straight at you with deep green eyes surrounded by golden brown skin that makes them stand out even more, "August told me all about how more than half the supplies they've brought back today was all thanks to you and that's way more than we've chewed on for the past month. Not only that, I've heard what you did for Lulu- Hell, I can see the aftermath of it too, honey." her voice is soft and quite reassuring but it doesn't stop your head from dropping to look away from her, unsure of what the hell you're supposed to say to that because, really, all you've got right now are self-depriving comments and you're not too hot on the idea of letting those out.

 

" **I** \- They- I didn't do a-anything special, you wouldn't praise a fish for s-swimming, right?" - " **W** atch me." she teases with a small smirk, " **Y** 'know, the way August talked about what happened? I'm not stupid, honey. I know damn well they gave up on the idea of saving her and, hell, I get why- I mean, don't get me wrong, it pisses me off just to think about it but you got to her because you were physically capable of doing so, none of them could have slipped through that window, even you cut it short." she states as she inspects your wounds, " **A** lright, m'gonna need you to lie down, hon. You've got some pieces of glass stuck in your cuts and we need to get those suckers out before it gets nasty."

 

You quietly listen to her instructions and carefully sit down, trying your best to ignore how tense your stomach is from all the stress you've been dealing with lately and the fresh and older wounds pulling on your skin as you move to lie down on the table. A sigh leaves your mouth when your head hits the pillow on the table. - " **T** h-they're good people. August, Neil a-and Ryan, Rick and D-Daryl too, they just-" you muffle a groan when you feel a piece of glass behind pulled out of your belly, pulling at the skin on its way out as if to say "fuck you".

 

" **S** orry, honey. There's only two big ones left and the rest should be painless." she whispers it but you still hear when she adds, " **L** et's hope." - " **M** ust be h-hard for August t-to be in th-those situations." - " **I** t's hard for everyone, hon." she says as she focuses back on getting the damn glass out of your body, " **A** lright, pretty girl, take a deep breath." her free hand squeezes your left one and you do as she says, you take a deep breath, " **A** nd- Breathe out." she instructs you right as she pulls the piece of glass out and you do your best not to cry out and focus on breathing out and, though it comes as a really shaky breath, it actually helps with the pain, " **T** here ya go, you doin' okay?"

 

" **Y** -yeah- Yeah, I'm okay, m'okay." you repeat under your breath, waiting for the throbbing in your belly to calm down a little as you regain your composure. - " **O** h, by the way, I'm Nasira. Can't believe I'm torturing you before I even introduced myself, how rude." she jokes, making you smile and laugh under your breath.

 

" **I** 'm- I'm y/n, s'nice to meet you... Y'know, d-despite the circumstances and all." - " **Y** eah." she looks up at you and seems to genuine feel bad when she says, " **I** 'm sorry, hon, I know this gotta suck and I also know that you've been having a rough couple of days. Promise I'll make it as quick as I can without hurting you, alright?"

 

" **T** h-that's okay, r-really. You just do what needs t-to be done and-and I'll sit through it, no problem." - " **Y** eah, call it a itch, but I damn well know you will, gorgeous." she focuses back on your injuries and gives you the same instructions, breath in then breath out as she pulls the glass out, " **T** here! That's those big fuckers gone and dealt with, now I just have to get their little bastards friends outta you, clean up the wounds and then I'll check you for any fun stuff like internal bleeding and whatnot, y'know, fun times." you would have laughed at her sarcasm if you weren't so concentrated on staying still to make it easier for her to clean this mess up.

 

Minutes go by and you lie there, letting Nasira tend to your wounds and, as she said she would, check you for any and more serious injuries which she, thankfully, doesn't find. Well, she finds your sore ribs and the bruises you came in here with and she actually takes the time to put cold creme on them to help with the soreness but, other than those, there's nothing new to note.

 

Silently, she sprays antiseptic on your belly and on your waist before gently wiping the excess off of your skin and carefully presses gauze down on the cuts to clean them before throwing the used pieces of medical supplies away. She turns her back to you for a quick minute before handing you a clean black hoodie, saying you shouldn't stay in your torn and blood soaked t-shirt. She actually turns her back to you without you having to ask to give you some form of privacy to change and you're glad she does because you're pretty sure your timidity wouldn't have allowed you to flat out ask her to do so.

 

Though changing whilst laying doing isn't the easiest thing in the world, you still manage to do so without hurting yourself all over again. - " **Y** 'know, you really need to give your body a break, y/n." Nasira says as she turns back around after you've given her the green light to do so, " **I** know you're probably thinking " _how about you mind your own business_ " but, trust me when I say; you're pushing yourself way too hard." she carefully helps you sit up, one of her hands on your back to support you and the other holding one of yours as she helps you up, " **I** used to fight." your head snaps up and she laughs at the surprised look on your face at her confession, " **P** rofessionally. I used to do a lot of M.M.A, stuff like that. Point is, though I've seen my fair share of bad injuries an'all, it still pains me to see the state you're in, y/n."

 

" **I** don't- It's just that, it's hard, you know? Catching a break when you're out there, always running from something or someone or-or running into something or s-someone, it's- it's just-" you let out an heavy sigh, your eyebrows furrowing when you feel tears filling your eyes and a nervous laugh comes out of nowhere and make its way right past your lips. - " **H** ey." Nasira's soft voice echoes in the room and the thumb of the hand still resting on yours starts to softly rub circles on your tender knuckles to try and reassure you, " **I** 've heard you're really keen on leaving as soon as possible. I get that, I really do, that much I can promise you, honey, but- I'm not letting you go back on the road tonight, I can't do that 'cause that'll be suicide for you and I'm not sending you out there to die or pass out from exhaustion which, inevitably, will get you killed. I'm not feeding you to the wolves, I'm just not."

 

" **I** d-don't- I don't know wh-what to do, honestly. I w-wanna go back, I h-have to-" - " **A** nd you will, I swear." she carefully brings her hands up to your face to makes you look up at her, her hands resting on your each of your cheeks, her left thumb catching and swiping a strayed tear away, " **T** omorrow morning, the second the sun comes up, if you wanna tell me and the others to fuck off, give us the finger and walk right out of those gates, I promise you, no one, and I mean **no one** , will keep you from doing so, y/n. But, tonight, you need to rest. You're a smart girl but you're clearly struggling to take care of yourself properly. Survival? You got that shit down to a fucking science, today most definitely made that real fucking clear but, basic everyday life stuff? You've forgotten, haven't you?" she pauses before letting a small laugh out, her hands leaving your face, " **D** amn, I just made it sound like you're some kind of animal or some shit, Jesus, what the hell. I'm sorry, hon, I honest to God didn't mean it like that."

 

" **N** o worries." you quietly say with a small smile on your lips, " **I** 'm pretty sure I got your point."

 

Nasira tends to the rest of your injuries, cleaning your face and grimacing as she announces you that the cut on your face most definitely needs stitches but, to her surprise, you don't react negatively to it, you don't actually react to it at all, you just nod and let her stitch you up without a single word or complaint, you don't even so much as flinch while she's working on stitching up your injury which is pretty damn impressive when you know just how sensitive and thin the skin of the face, especially the cheeks, is.

 

Once she's done with the stitches, she pats an antiseptic soaked gauze on the wound before cleaning your face up with a baby wipe, the white material quickly turning a bright red as it absorbs the dry blood plastered on your skin. She then tends to your sore hands, unwrapping them and throwing the dirty bandages away. - " **Y** 'know, bandages are meant to protect the wound underneath them, honey. They're not here just to look pretty, though, I know they're one hell of a fashionable accessory." she teases, making you let out a breathy laugh.

 

" **I** really appreciate what you did today, y/n, we all do." her tone is suddenly so serious, it takes you aback for a second, " **Y** esterday morning, August told us about you, about how you two actually talked after we brought you back. Don't know if you actually remember that night." So that's why her voice seemed familiar, you remember now. She was the woman in the back of the car with you the night August brought you to the Shore, she was the one arguing with Ryan on the way back. - " **Y** -yeah- I remember. I remember you, well- I remember your voice."

 

" **N** othing better than making a strong first impression, right?" she says with a soft laugh as she gently sprays some more antiseptic on your open palms, making you flinch a little at the sting of the product when it makes contact with the raw skin, " **S** orry, gorgeous." she gives you a sympathetic smile before pressing a gauze on each palm and cleaning them one after another, her movement soft and gentle but purposeful none the less, " **P** eople seem down with you sticking around, especially because August told them he actually trusts you to behave, he usually doesn't- Well, no, actually, he **never** trusts anyone like he does you. Don't get me wrong, he's a good man but, you know, he has a little girl to look after, to protect- Hell, he has a whole fucking town to look after and protect and, no offense to them, but, most of these people can't even hold a gun without freaking out. August's always been all about giving chances but- He did things differently with you, you most definitely hit his soft spot without even trying, hon."

 

You stay silent and just watch as Nasira takes one last look at your injured and swollen palms, a small sigh leaving her as she lets go of your hands to let them rest on your thighs, " **L** et's let those babies get some air, yeah? It should help with the healing process, dressing a wound helps to protect it when it's fresh but, after that, you have to let the injury breathe in order for it to heal properly." she laughs, " **S** orry, that was unnecessary information." - " **N** -No. No, it wasn't." you give her a smile but it quickly turns into a small frown when you experimentally try to close your right hand which only serves to pull on the sore skin of your palm, making it throb, " **A** lright, never mind then." you grumpily mumble to yourself.

 

Nasira softly laughs at your almost child-like behavior and then sighs like the weight of the world just fell on her shoulders, " **A** lright- Alright, I'm gonna got get Daryl before he melts the door down with his damn glare." you giggle at that and, as she makes her way towards the door, you call for her, bringing her attention back to you, " **E** verything alright?" - " **Y** -yeah, I just uh-" you nervously pull on your fingers before taking a shaky breath, " **I** 'll st-stay- For tonight." you quickly add but you're not sure if it's to make it clear to her that your stay is only temporary or to make it clear to **yourself**.

 

" **G** ood." she gives you a warm smile, " **M** eans I won't have to tie you down after all." she teases before opening the door and, sure enough, the second the door open, Daryl is bursting inside the room to check on you, " **W** hy, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dixon, I most definitely appreciate it."

 

 

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 **9:00** **PM** **//**

 

You rub your hands together, cupping them together and bringing them up to your mouth to blow hot air into them, trying to warm yourself up as you attentively watch for any movement outside the gates, a riffle firmly gripped into your right hand along the side of your body, your injured palms not hurting so much anymore.

 

" **W** ell, I'll be damned." August's voice makes you jump and squeal in surprise, your cheeks burning hot in embarrassment when you realize that the high-pitched noise actually came out of your damn mouth and August seems to be pretty damn amused by it, " **S** orry, kiddo, didn't me to startle you like that." he apologizes though he's clearly trying to swallow down a laugh as he climbs the ladder leading up to the deck right above the gates where the people of the Shore take rounds on to keep watch.

 

" **I** hate you so much." you whisper, your cheeks a crimson red. - " **Y** ou don't mean that." he teases before walking up to stand beside you, leaning on his forearms on top of the deck's waist-high wooden railing and lets his eyes wander aimlessly in front of him, " **H** ow you feelin', kiddo?"

 

" **A** lmost peed myself but, other than that, I think I'm doing p-pretty good." He laughs, dropping his head before bringing it back up and turning it towards you to find that you're now right next to him, leaning against the wood just like him, aimlessly looking into the night, " **S** 'not what I meant." - " **W** hen- When we were out there, taking care of those walkers-" you hesitate and he seems to see it. - " **Y** eah?" he softly encourages you and you take a deep breath.

 

" **Y** ou- You asked- In the middle of all this mess, you still took the time to make sure everyone was d-doing okay- How- I mean how do you- I don't-" you let out a frustrated "ugh" but relax when you hear August softly laughing beside you, " **T** hose people? They-They're lucky t-to have you is all." - " **Y** ou kiddin' me, right?" he sounds so shocked that it makes you look back at him in curiosity, " **I** almost got Lulu killed today, she'd be dead if it wasn't for you, y/n."

 

" **Y** ou know, I can't say that I fully understand b-because, well, I don't have a child and I-" you almost tell him that you also never had a parent who actually gave a shit about you but you quickly stop the words from coming out, " **B** -But, I understand that, at the end of the day, you have a choice to make. Either you're gonna go home to your little girl o-or not and, honestly, I think you should always go for the what'll bring you home t-to your little girl, at least for as long as you have something to say about it."

 

" **T** hey're not with you so- I assume you've lost your parents?" you quietly nod your head, not feeling like giving him the details. After all, you might know him a little better than you did two days ago but he's still what you consider to be a stranger, " **M** 'sorry, kid. I don't know how you're dealing with all this shit, seriously." he lets out a dry laugh, " **H** ell, I'm a grown ass man but, you take my parents away from me? My little girl? This place? I'll lose my mind in a matter of minutes, that much I know."

 

" **I** t's- It's a good thing, that you think that way." you almost laugh at the look he gives you, like you've just dropped a baby on its head right in front of him, " **T** hink about it. What kind of man would be comfortable and at peace with the thought of losing everything he has? Believe me-" you hesitate for a second, " **I** 've met and actually had to live with that type of men- They're no good, not one bit." - " **H** ow old are you, kiddo? I mean, if that's not-" - " **M** 'eighteen."

 

" **D** amn... Wait, you were only sixteen when this shit went down, then?" - " **Y** eah, actually it was two days after my sixteenth birthday." - " **M** an, that's fucking rough." there's a short moment of silence in which you spot a walker dragging itself towards the gates, clearly attracted to the smell you and August are letting out but you put it down with a clean shot of the silenced riffle Ryan gave you when you asked to take a turn in the night shift to relieve him for a while, " **D** amn, you're one hell of a shot, kiddo."

 

" **T** h-thank you." again, you feel your cheek heating up at the praise and you clear your throat to try and brush it off before reloading the riffle, keeping it ready, just in case. - " **J** ust so we're even, I'm thirty." he pushes his body of the deck's wall before stretching out and you have to advert your eyes when his shirt rides up, letting his toned belly show, " **N** ow, as much as I appreciate you being up here and all, you gotta get some rest-"

 

" **I** -I'm fine- It-it's fine, m'fine." you mumble under your breath, avoiding eye contact with August at all costs but then, he's right in front of you and you actually have to take a step back to look at him properly without craning your neck. He carefully takes the riffle out of your hand and ruffles his free hand through your short fluffy hair, making them fly all over the place and fall on your forehead, some of them falling in your eyes, " **G** o get some sleep, soldier."

 

" **F** ine." you whine, blowing the hair out of your face and running a hand through them to fix the mess August's giant hand has just made on top of your head. - " **G** oodnight, y/n. Sleep tight." - " **Y** -you too, August." you're about to walk off when you feel August's hand wrap around your wrist, keeping you from walking away, and you turn around, shooting him a questioning look, " **A** ugust?"

 

" **I** get that you're afraid, hell, I don't fucking blame you for that, I don't need to know the details to be able to say that you've been through some shit no one should ever go through, 'specially not at your age-" - " **I** -I don't-" - " **L** emme finish, kiddo." he carefully steps a little closer from you and you audibly swallow the saliva that got caught in your throat, " **I** can't tell you shit's gonna be easy or that it'll even be fucking worth it because, honestly? I don't fucking know." he almost looks as lost as you for a moment, " **I** ain't here to clip your wings, kid, that'd just be cruel and, believe it or not, I don't actually aim to hurt you in any way."

 

" **W** h- I don- But-" there's so many things going on in your head that your brain doesn't seem to be able to settle for just one question at a time and your mouth just opens and closes like you're a fish out of water. - " **I** 'm so fucking confused as to what I'm supposed to do about you, I mean- Fuck, it should be simple, right? You wanna stay? I'll let you stay. You wanna go? Then fucking go, but-" he stops, looking at you like your eyes would let him know what's going through your head.

 

Both of you flinch a little, him in surprise and you in fear, when you wrap your free hand around the wrist of his which still holding your left wrist, your hand too small for your fingertips to actually meet around his wrist, " **I** -I like it here b-but- but I- I just-" - " **Y** ou just what, kiddo?" he softly presses on, like he desperately needs you to clearly tell him to fuck off and to give it up because not even him can make sense of how quickly he's grown attached to you.

 

" **I** don't belong here, August." you whisper so quietly he almost didn't catch it but your words still do reach him and he's unsure what he's supposed to say to that so he just stands there, his hand still holding your wrist and your hand holding his. You're the first to let go and you do so without a word, he doesn't oppose to it and simply gently lets go of you, his brows rising in surprise when you quickly lean up and leave a kiss on his cheek before you, just as quietly, turn your back to him and walk off, " **S** leep tight." and though it's barely above a whisper, he hears you and silently nods his head, words seemingly caught in his throat.

 

You carefully climb off the deck and immediately start to make your way towards the house you've been in for the last forty-eight hours and, as if this is a regular routine for you, you open the front door, turn around to close it and absently walk into the living room, kicking your boots and socks off and shoving your pants down your legs before unclasping your bra and slipping it off underneath your hoodie, process to throw the offending piece of clothing somewhere around the room and finally let your body limply fall on the comfortable couch with an ease you didn't think you'd have in this foreign place. Your head lands flat into the pillows laying against the arm of the couch, a grunt leaving your mouth when your careless fall pulls on some of your wounds and makes some throb at the sudden impact.

 

_goooood job. wow, 0/10, would not human again._

 

You groan in discomfort but manage to flip yourself onto your back and grab the soft, thick and fuzzy blanket you've been sleeping under for the past two nights you've spent at the Shore, bringing the ridiculously soft material up to cover your body and just lie there, standing at the freakishly clean white ceiling above your head. Your brain keeps on replaying the conversation you've just had with August, unsure of how to process it nor how to feel about it.

 

Today's run was genuinely fun, expect for the part where Lulu almost got gutted, you had such a good time which, in all honestly, you didn't think was possible to have whilst on a supply run. Those people made you laugh and, most importantly, they spoke to you and treated you like any other human being would. They didn't try and keep you from doing such and such thing because of your age, nor did they treat you like you're made out paper thin glass though they knew about the state you're currently in. Sure, they were there to slow you down from time to time but they didn't **keep you** from doing your thing and it made you feel that much better.

 

For the few hours you've spent outside today, you've forgotten about just how terrible your mental health is, how much of an issue it's becoming and how your depression is now something you can't just push aside anymore. For a few hours; you felt normal, like you belong, like, maybe, being alive might not be such a terrible thing after all. You felt safe around those people, granted, Rick and Daryl's presence helped a whole lot to make you feel completely safe but, tonight, neither of them are around anymore and you don't get that feeling of- Uneasiness you've been having ever since you've stepped foot in this place.

 

No, it doesn't feel quite like home, it probably never will, but it's just not so... scary and claustrophobic feeling anymore, it's just a nice place to hang in. You're not so scared about letting go as you were just this very morning which is probably why tears are now freely falling from your eyes and rolling all over your face, unsure of the way to take because of the inclination your head is in. Truth is; you want to go back to Negan, **you really do** , but you're scared.

 

What if he's decided that he's done with you? What if he's just decided you weren't worth his attention anymore? What if he just gave up on you? Hell, you wouldn't blame him, after all, you did spend most of your time running away from the man. Then again, shouldn't you be feed up too? You've got every reason to be after all. Maybe you're both too damn stubborn for this... thing, whatever it may be, the two of you seem to have going on to ever actually work out in your favors but you're too stubborn to give up that easily and, hell, so is he.

 

He knows how he feels about you, he has a real fucking clear name to put on it but he's scared shitless to admit it out loud. You, on the other hand, have no fucking clue whatsoever what that feeling you have about him is and that makes it that much scarier because, Heavens know, you've never asked to feel that way. It's sickening but in a good way, if that's even possible. Like, it's making your brain go stupid, your heart thump in your ears and your stomach clench like someone is using it as a freaking stress-relieve toy. Man, you hate that feeling just as much as it makes you giddy.

 

So, here you are, laying there on a couch, starring at the ceiling, tears soaking your face, your nose running, your whole body shaking with nerve, exhaustion and that odd feeling you always get whenever you think of Negan for even a fraction of a second and, to top it all of, you're now giggling and smiling, biting down on your bottom lip to try and keep quiet. You feel like a psychopath and, boy, aren't you glad no one else is around right now because they'll probably lock you up and force you into a straitjacket and you wouldn't even blame them.

 

It feels like your brain is melting, your head hurts and, though you're still giggling like a child, you want nothing more than to shove your face into a pillow and cry your heart out into it until you pass out. You don't know what the hell's going on with you, why you're laughing and crying and the same damn time, why you can't seem to unclench your jaw when its shut so tightly it hurts like a bitch nor why you can't seem to let go of your bottom lip though you can now clearly taste and feel blood pouring out of it, indicating that you've bitten through the plushy flesh.

 

By the time sleep finally claims you, your eyes are puffy, your nose hurts from the repeated sniffling, your cheeks are a deep red, you can already feel the bruise forming on your lip as blood keeps pouring out of it to pool at the little dip right between the swollen flesh and your chin and your head is throbbing in pain. All in all; it feels like you've just got the beating of a lifetime and you can already tell that tomorrow morning won't be fun to wake up to.

 

 

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**9:00** **AM** **//**

 

You wake up with a start, pulled out of your deep sleep by high-pitched noises and something wet poking your face. - " **G** oddammit- Luna, c'mere!" you hear Neil's voice as he whispers/shouts and you slowly emerge from your sleep, your eyes slowly getting adjusted to the light shinning inside the living room and you gasp in surprise when you end up face to face with a giant dog's head right in front of yours, so close that your eyes cross, the sound of its tail repeatedly smacking against the fuzzy carpet covering the floor and- wait a minute.

 

" **W** h-what d'you say its name was?" you ask though you can't even see Neil as he hasn't even stepped into the living room yet, afraid he might've woken you up if his dog hadn't already done the deed. - " **U** h- Luna, her name's Luna." he finally gets into your eyesight and you immediately spots the apologetic look on his face, " **D** amn, I'm sorry. I just- I came by to check on you, since you've had one hell of a day yesterday and- Shit, I guess Luna beat me to it. I'm so sorry, she just- Busted in the second I cracked the door open. Fuck, [y/n], I'm sorry."

 

" **H** ey, it's okay." you finally sit down, the blanket still covering your bare legs which you're thankful for because you don't really feel like making a show of yourself at the moment, " **H** i, there." you greet the dog, its tail going crazy now that it knows you've fully acknowledged its presence. She's easily one of the prettiest dog you've ever seen, her fur is an almost blinding white and her eyes are a freakishly clear blue swirled with hints of grey. She's gigantic and she's sitting, you can easily imagine just how big she truly is when she's standing on all four paws.

 

You carefully reach out for her collar and find a golden plate on it with the name " **L** una" engraved in it. - " **Y** ou like it? I think it suits her, y'know, 'cause she's all white an'all." Neil explains as he sits down on the couch next to you, careful to keep some distance between the two of you not to make you uncomfortable.

 

" **Y** -yeah, I uh- I really like it." you do, it's odd to hear that name after so long but it most definitely suits her, " **H** i, Luna. It's nice to meet you, I'm y/n." you happily pet the dog's head before turning to look at Neil, excitement all over your eyes, " **M** an, I freaking love dogs! D'you have any idea how long it's been since I've last seen one of those? Dude, I think I was, like... Thirteen or something." actually you came across some of them after everything went to shit but, none of them were alive and it sure as shit isn't something you want to bring up, or remember for that matter.

 

" **I** found her in a trash one day when I was on my way back from a run and- Man, she was so fuckin' small, she barely had any fur on her and her eyes were still all puffy and shit, she looked like a shaved guinea pig." you laugh at the comparison and reassuringly pet Luna afterwards, " **T** ook her home, feed her through a baby bottle for a few weeks and then she just- Well, she grew pretty nicely, I think, right?"

 

" **Y** eah, I think that's a safe assumption to make." you say with a small laugh, making Neil smile, " **S** he's lucky to have you." - " **H** onestly, I think I'm happier about it than she could ever be. She hasn't left my side ever since that day and, hell, she's only two years old as of right now." - " **W** ow, no way- Seriously? Man, she's freaking huge!"

 

" **Y** eah, the kids kinda use her as a pony around here, she doesn't seem to mind though." you watch as the Irish man rubs his hands over his thighs before clapping them together and smiling at you, " **H** ey, it didn't get the jump on ya this time around." - " **T** hat's right, I've got your number now, Neil. You can't sneak up on me with your demonic hand clapping anymore."  - " **S** 'that a challenge, darlin'?" he teases with a small smirk on his lips and you scoff dramatically, making him chuckle.

 

" **P** lease, we both know I'm more than you can handle." - " **W** ell," he starts, standing off the couch, "I ain't gonna argue with that, love. Anyways, like I said, I just wanted to check on you real quick." he whistles for Luna and she immediately goes to sit at his feet, " **I** f ya need anythin' just holler at Lulu, she around here somewhere, I gotta go help August's dad with a few things around the place but, don't hesitate if ya need anythin', seriously." he quickly clears his throat, " **A** lright, I'm gonna let you wake up in peace and don't forget t'eat somethin'." he goes to walk out of your house, Luna following closely behind and, just as you get up off the couch, he stops in the doorway, " **H** ey, y/n?" he calls though he's now out of your sight and you're out of his.

 

" **Y** -Yeah?" - " **D** on't y'dare go without sayin' goodbye first 'cause I'll hunt you down, just so y'know." you can tell he's smiling as he speaks yet you can also tell that he really holds it at heart to be able to say goodbye to you and, for some reason, it tugs at your heart strings. - " **O** -Of course, I promise."

 

_well, shit, why would you do that? what the hell? now we gotta say goodbye, you know how we feel about goodbyes! we don't like 'em! god, we're real fucking bad at those!_

 

On that promise, the front door of the house clicks shut and you put yourself together before clumsily grabbing your pants, socks and bra off the floor to then head to the bathroom, a warm shower being the only thing you crave after such a weird but, oddly enough, not unpleasant wake up call.

 

Standing in front of the mirror above the sink, you push your upper body on to your hands which are resting on the counter top on each side of the sink and lean onto them to get a closer look at your face and, oh boy, do you look like Hell. You bring your right hand up and softly let the very tip of your fingers curiously trace along the stitches keeping the deep cut between your jawline and cheekbone close, the skin all around it is swollen to shit and turning a deep blue, red and purple. Your lower lip also is swollen but, thankfully, not all that much though the bruise going all across the flesh is pretty damn dark and visible, you rather have a visible bruise on your lip than for it to be swollen to hell and make it look like you tried to suck on a damn bee or something.

 

_psa; don't you be going sucking on bees now, kids._

 

You also have a few scratches here and there, some on your forehead, some on your chin and even few way too close to your left eye. The few scraps below said eye brings your attention to the stitches on your brow bone and you sigh when you see, just like you though it would, the hair where the deep cut is are now completely gone and probably won't be coming back, you don't really mind though, now you'll have a badass looking scar cutting through your brow. Always gotta try and see the bright side of things, right?

Now, for the long ass scar that damn cut is gonna leave in the hollow of your cheek? That's a whole other story and you'll deal with that shit when you'll have the energy and patience to because, as of right now, you have neither and just thinking about it makes you want to cry. - " **N** ope, I'm not dealing with you today." you say to your reflection in the mirror, " **F** uck you." and, just like you're wrongly so used to do, you quickly throw a towel on the reflecting glass above the sink, keeping it from taunting you with your own damn reflection before getting rid of your panties and shirt and hopping in the shower, praying that your mind will be a little calmer today.

 

 

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As you're sitting on the steps leading up to the front porch of the house you've been given residence to, sipping on a hot cocoa, you watch Robin playing with Neil's dog, the pair running around, the little girl giggling and squealing when the animal gets closer to her, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the sight. This whole moment is so perfectly framed that it's almost cliché. It's too peaceful, too relaxing in comparison of what's happening outside the walls those people are living in.

 

You spot a giant shadow on the ground and lift your head up to find August walking your way, a steaming mug in his hand as he waves at his little girl, telling her to play nice with Luna but they both seem content with rolling around in the grass and getting covered in dirt.

 

" **M** orning." you quietly greet the man as he reaches you. - " **H** ey, kiddo. Damn, you look beaten to shit but... Dare I say... Rested?" he teases with a small smirk and you stick the tip of your tongue out at him, making him laugh, " **I** live with a six years old, princess, you're gonna want to step up your game if you wanna get rid of me." you don't say anything about it but you don't fail to catch on the fact that he's called you princess instead of the usual kiddo and, in all honesty, you don't actually mind because, for once, there's no filth behind the petname.

 

" **Y** eah. Yeah, I think you can." you smile at him and watch as he sits down next to you on the step you're on, sighing happily and also in defeat when he sees his daughter rolling around in grass right in front of him, her white dress turning brown and green.

 

" **W** ell, let us be optimistic and say that this dress lasted longer than all the others ever did but, man, it never stood a chance." you laugh at his dramatically monotone voice and he turns his head to look at you, a smile tugging at his lips, " **I** swear she secretly loves to destroy those, s'like, she's got some kind of dark backstory involving a dress, like," he dramatically lowers his voice, making it scruffier than it normally is, "you killed my mom, you son of a bitch, now prepare to die." his voice gets back to its natural tone when you choke on your drink, somehow thinking it was a good idea to take a sip while August was clearly about to say something stupid.

 

" **O** h, shit." he carefully pats your back, helping you out with your erratic coughing and, the second it stops, after he made sure that you're a hundred percent okay, he bursts out laughing. - " **Y** ou're the worst! God, I have cocoa in my nose now, s'gross!" He's laughing so hard and whole-heartily that his whole body is shaking along and you can't help but join in, his laugh contagious and the situation itself pretty damn comical when you think about it.

 

You both let yourselves calm down and take a moment to appreciate the silence that falls between the two of you once you're back to simply smiling like goofs. You both quietly sip on your hot drinks, August throwing his coffee back like someone might steal it from him if he's not quick enough while you actually take your time to drink and appreciate your chocolate. - " **Y** 'know, m'pretty sure you're gonna wanna punch me for bringin' this shit up again but- I think you should stay, for real." you let out a soft and amused scoff at his words, making the man smile.

 

" **A** ugust, look-" you sigh, " **M** 'not- It's not that I don't appreciate the fact that you're trying so hard to-to give me a chance to have- You know-" you look at him, " **A** somewhat normal life," you whisper like those are strictly forbidden words, "but- Truth is... I don't think I can do that anymore, y'know? Live like this?" you eye Robin who's now petting Luna's belly as she happily wacks her tail around, " **N** ormality, it- It suffocates me."

 

He looks at you for a moment, silence surrounding you but it's not an heavy one, it's just there, floating between the two of you. You drop your head down and absently twirl the spoon in your mug around, mixing the milk and the powered chocolate together, the long silence slowly becoming a little overwhelming for you.

 

" **W** e're heading back outside today, we need some random supplies like clothes, food, toys and all that crap." he gets up, sipping the last of his coffee before looking down at you as he now towers over you, " **Y** 'should tag along, there's this big mall we always go to, shit's full of clothes still-" you open your mouth, about to tell him that you don't need to stack up on clothes because you're not staying anyway but, as if he can read your mind, he adds, " **Y** eah, I know you're not staying." if you didn't know any better, you'd say he sounds bitter, " **D** oesn't matter, think it's about damn time you get to wear your own damn clothes and fuckin' pick 'em too, yeah?" he doesn't let you give him an answer and, as he's walking away, his back turned to you, he adds, "Ten A.M sharp, kiddo."

 

_what the fuck was that about?_

 

 

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**10:00 AM //**

You walk towards the front gates, shyly waving at a few people (which you have absolutely no idea who they are, by the way) as you make your way towards August and Neil when a small arm wraps around your thigh, almost making you lose your balance at the sudden and unexpected contact. - " **Y** /n!" you hear Robin's high-pitched voice happily greet you before you actually see the little girl when you look down only to see her tightly holding on to your thigh, making you smile down at her.

 

" **H** ey, Robin." you carefully step away from her and, just as she's about to complain, you kneel down to be head-level with her and she immediately lunches herself into your arms. She's so young, she probably doesn't even notice when your whole body tenses up and flinches at the sudden display of affection and you're thankful for that because you don't want her to think that you don't want her affection, that'd just be cruel. You quickly get some composure back and gently wrap your arms around her, " **H** ow're you doing?"

 

" **I** 'm okay." she whispers into your neck and you have to ignore your ticklishness when her words vibrate against your skin, silently cursing your hypersensitivity, " **Y** ou look hurt." she sounds so upset as she says those words that it takes you by surprise and you freeze for a second. - " **I** -" you take a deep breath, trying your damnedest not to stutter, " **I** 'm alright, Robin, don't worry about me, alright?" you say against the side of her head before quickly but gently kissing her temple and pulling away from her.

 

For a moment, it seems like you're both inspecting each other's face, her looking at your bruised, injured, swollen and stitched up one and you looking at her very concerned and probably quite scared one. You clear your throat and look away from the little girl, not really comfortable with her seeing you like this, after all, she's just a kid, and you can't really see yourself explaining to her how you ended up looking the way you do. You feel her small hand slipping into your right one and you have to grit your teeth not to pull away when she makes contact with your sore palm, " **A** -are you okay?"

 

" **Y** eah- Yeah, hon, I'm alright." you give her a smile through a very tightly clenched jaw and, when she gives you one in return, you're thankful that she's still too young to pick up on people's body language. - " **C** ome on, I wanna show you something." Robin tugs gently at your hand and you quickly turn your head towards the gates, remembering that August said ten A.M sharp.

 

Your eyes fall on his the moment your head turns, he's leaning against a car, watching you and his girl from a distance and it seems like you two are able to understand one another without a word because, one look from you, another from him, a tilt of your head and he's nodding, giving you permission to wander off before going out.

 

You mouth him a " _Thank you_ " and he gives you a small smile before dropping his head, only looking slightly back up when he sees Robin dragging you off to God knows where, a low chuckle making his chest vibrate. - " **R** obin, honey, where're you taking me, exactly?" you ask, genuinely curious as you let the little girl guide you around the place, probably a good thing she's here because you don't know the damn place anyways. - " **Y** ou'll see." she announces with an excited squeal and, really, who are you to argue with that?

 

Eventually, you end up going behind what you assume to be August's house, which you now know happens to be at the very far end of the town, and stop when Robin turns around and gives a loud, " **T** a-da!" her arms wide open as she stands in the middle of her garden. You get lost for a second between the pretty flowers planted all along the picket white fence, the gigantic trees casting shadows all over the freshly cut grass, the leafs all turning the prettiest warm colors with Fall slowly coming and then, you see it. Right in the middle of the biggest tree in the garden, there's an amazingly cool looking tree-house and you feel like a freaking kid at the mere sight of it, " **M** y dad and grandpa Álvaro made it for me after mommy left."

 

You look down at her, unsure of what you're supposed to tell her. You don't know what happened to her mother, if she literally just left or if she "left" as in she actually died. - " **Y** ou know," you kneel down to level with her again, her eyes sparkling at the attention, "I used to have a tree-house too, just like that one, actually." - " **D** -did you like it?" - " **N** ah, I was too afraid to climb up." you say with a smile, making Robin giggle.

 

" **T** hat's okay." she grabs your hand again, " **D** addy says things can be really scary when you do them alone so I can do it with you, you'll see, it's not that scary. I'll show you, promise I won't let go." you look at the little girl, her words hitting you right in the heart and slapping you in the face. When she sees that you're not moving to stand back up, she squeezes your hand with her much smaller one, " **Y** ou just have to trust me a little, you'll see, I won't let you get hurt, I promise."

 

You smile at her before getting back up on to your feet, " **A** lright, captain, let's do this." you look at her freckled face before squeezing her hand like she did yours, " **I** trust you." you affirm her and immediately see her eyes opening a little wider at your words.

 

Truth be told, the height wasn't what kept you from spending time your tree-house as a child. What kept you from enjoying being a kid with a freaking fortress in the trees was the fact that that's exactly what it became; a fortress. A place you'd run to to hide from your mother or the pigs she'd bright back into your house. A tree-house is supposed to be a fun place for a kid to hang inside of, to invite friends over to sleep in, it's supposed to be a place for a kid to make good memories in and be able to have their very own bubble, their own personal space made just for them and them only.

 

It's not supposed to be a place you go to hide from the big bad wolf, not a place you go to sleep in because you're too scared to sleep in your own goddamn bedroom and you're too scared to even risk it because the man your mom brought back has been looking at you weird every since he's laid eyes on you. Yeah, your tree-house was a safe Heaven but you just wish it could have been something else, that it could have been the fun and safe place it was meant to be, not a space you had to share with your demons.

 

You feel Robin squeezing your hand again and you look down at her, giving her a smile before telling her to lead the way and she does with a big smile and an excited little jump. You follow right behind her and she adorably encourages you and reassures you as you climb up the ladder leading up to the wooden cabin, hugging you when you finally get there. - " **Y** ou did it! See," she pulls away from you, "not so scary, right?"

 

" **W** ell," you start with a smile, "to be fair, I did have a great supporter to help me get here." She happily giggles at your words and then proceeds to give you a "tour" of her little tree-house before sitting down on a bean bag and pointing another one out for you to take. You sit there, carefully watching the little girl as something seems to be right at the tip of her tongue but she's too afraid to spit it out so you decide to just wait out and, surely enough, she ends up finding her words.

 

" **D** addy said you weren't staying... It's not true, right?" your breath gets caught in your throat, " **Y** ou'd tell me, right?" - " **Y** es." you spit out before you can even think about the consequences, anything to get the look of pure sorrow off the little girl's face, " **Y** es, Robin, of course I'd tell you. You'd be the first to know, I promise." she seems to relax a little a that.

 

" **S** -so... You're staying then, right?" - " **R** obin, princess, I don't- It's all really complicated and-" you look at her and feel your heart tightening in your chest at the look on her face, " **I** 'm here for now and, I promise, if I decide to leave, you'll be the first to know about it, alright?" - " **P** romise?" - " **P** romise."

 

Robin slips off her bean bag and crawls towards you, climbing on yours and settling on your thighs, her head coming to rest in the crook of your shoulder, " **Y** ou're staying for now, right?" - " **Y** eah." you bring your hands around her and let them rest on her back, securing her onto your hold, " **Y** eah, I'm staying for now. I promise."

 

_well, fuck me sideways._

 

 

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**4:00** **PM** **//**

A whole day outside and you're exhausted, your whole body hates you right now, you're bloody and bruised but, goddamn, does it feel good. You have three bags filled with all sorts of clothes, trash foods, sweets, comics, toiletries and you even found a few games for you GameBoy so, yeah, today definitely was a good day.

 

You're riding shotgun in August's car, the man driving with a smile on his face as he hums along the old song playing of the radio, Ryan is out cold in the backseat, his face squished against the window he's sitting next to as he softly snores away the tiring day he's just had, Neil and Lulu doing the same expect they fell asleep on each other, Lulu's head resting heavily on Neil's lap and the Irish man's head resting in the crease his fold up arm which he placed right on top of the ex-tattoo artist's ribs.

 

As for you, you're just lazily glancing out the passenger seat's window, watching the trees of the forest longing the road and a few walkers roaming around all turning into blurry figures because of the speed of which the car is moving. - " **Y** ou know, I get you want to give back the medical supplies you so firmly believe have being "wasted" on you but, kiddo," he takes his eyes of the room to look at you as he speaks, " **I** don't think you realize just how much all the shit you've found today actually means to us, to me."

 

Today's been really good to you but not just to you. You still can't believe you've got three whole entire bags, filled to the brim, of stuff that you get to keep because you were the one to find them, you still can't get August's face when you asked him for the hundredth time if he was serious about you keeping this stuff to yourself out of your head, it was something between amusement and something else though you're not too sure what.

 

And, yeah, you get to keep all this stuff but, the reason why today wasn't good only to you is because you actually came back with six full bags; two of them filled with medical and surgical supplies which you found by wondering of in an old and overran military medical emergency camp set up inside a primary school. You came back bloody, August and the others freaked out because they thought you ran off and got hurt but their panic quickly disappeared when you dropped the two bags of supplies at their feet, jaws dropping and eyes widening as a proud yet shy smile appeared on your lips.

 

You remember the small laugh that went around between the five of you when Neil whispered " **C** an we keep her?" and, yeah, it made you laugh but, deep down, it also made your heart swell with joy and pride. It doesn't matter how bad the nuclear war happening inside your mind is, out there? It has no power whatsoever over you. When you're out there, doing your thing and focusing solely on it, your depression loses all power over you, your anxieties don't get to make decisions for you and your insecurities don't eat you whole because, out there; you're in control, it's all you, always has been, always will be- Well, hopefully.

 

Point is; it doesn't matter how bad it gets, you still have that one thing to hold onto and you'll die before you'll let that slip away. This world isn't a ruthless jungle, not to you, because you've made it your bitch, your playground and you'll be damned if you'll let anyone or anything ever take that away from you. - " **M** an... Negan would've killed to have those." you whisper out loud without even realizing it as guilt suddenly hits you in the face out of nowhere.

 

Part of you wishes that you could have brought those supplies back to Negan, that unhealthy need you have to make him proud overtaking you for no reason in particular other than that he always seems to be on your mind lately. Luckily, August didn't even realize you've said anything, " **Y** ou, uh- You want me to drop you off somewhere?" he hesitantly asks, his fingers tightening and loosening over and over around the wheel.

 

"Already tired of me, uh?" you tease, making the man laugh, his whole body visibly relaxing a little bit into his seat, " **N** ah, I-" you hesitate a little, nervously running your hand through your slowly regrowing hair, " **I** think I'm gonna postpone to tomorrow, I'm kinda out of order right now."

 

_and, let me guess, tomorrow you'll postpone to the next day, uh?_

 

" **W** ell, you're welcome to hold it off while you let yourself recover, kiddo." he smiles, " **Y** ou should go see Nasira when we get back, she could really help you reeducate your shoulder, you always seem in pain whenever you move it too much and, well, since it's the one you use to shoot, it might be good to heal it."

 

" **Y** -yeah. Yeah, it'll uh- It'll be nice, th-thanks August." - " **T** hank me when you'll be able to move that damn arm without any pain." he chuckles and you let out a soft laugh, turning in your seat to look at him, your back now resting against the door of the car, " **H** ow did it get injured, anyway?" - " **U** h, well- B-bullet wound, I uh- Well, I got shot... obviously... s'a bullet wound so- yeah." you look down, flustered because of your stuttering.

 

" **M** an, people are so fucked up nowadays, that's just so fucking wrong." - " **O** h, I've had w-worse you-you know? Getting shot is like- Like a good ol' r-regular Monday morning for me, now." you try and joke but even you realize just how sad the reality of your words is.

 

" **F** ucking-" he cuts himself off to look at you and his expression softens when he sees your eyes shinning in the sunlight invading the car through the windshield, " **I** 'm sorry, princess." - " **Y** ou don't have t-to be. I'm still alive a-aren't I?"

 

_yeah, and what an healthy and perfectly functioning human being you are..._

 

Truth is, it might be sad but, you've had it all; getting shot, stabbed, beat up, burned and even tortured yet nothing, nothing, ever came close to hurting like someone fucking with your head. You can recover from physical injuries, at least, most of the time, but someone getting inside your head and playing you with whatever information they've got? Now that's something else entirely, that's what's making your mind go under, what's feeding your depression, anxieties, insecurities and fears, what makes them stronger.

 

What's so damn horrible about it all is that, when it's all said and done? You're left alone to deal with it because, really, no one can help you when it comes to psychological pain. It's varies too much from one person to another for anyone to be able to understand how bad it truly is for you so you just tell yourself that you're before off just isolating yourself and hiding behind a smile to try and forget that you're pretty much breaking. Well, that's what you used to do, now, after that last traumatic experience, it seems to be getting harder and harder with each passing minute to pretend that you're okay, that you're not scared shitless of what's happening to you and the things you're feeling.

 

There's no running away from it, no hiding away from it either. You're scared, you're hurt; you need help because you can't deal with this all on your own, it's too fucking much and it feels like it's about to break you in half like a damn twig.

 

 

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 **THREE** **WEEKS** **LATER** **//** **11:25** **AM** **//**

 

Three weeks, it's been three entire weeks since you've first came to the Shore, three weeks since you've first met August and Astrid, three weeks since you've first set foot in the house you're now kinda living in, three weeks since you've said "I'll be gone by dawn.". Yeah, it's already been three weeks.

 

You've found a pattern around here, getting up early, drinking your hot cocoa on the steps of your porch, watching the sunrise before August joins you with his morning coffee and you talk about what's ahead of you for the day. You'd always agree to tag along for supply runs and now your August's right hand, you fell so naturally into that role that neither of you has questioned it. You both make one hell of a team outside and inside the community, you're there if he needs help chopping a walker's head off just like you're here if he needs help making dinner.

 

Everyone in town seems to really appreciate you and all the weight you've been pulling around the place and the supplies you're constantly bringing back from runs. You kept your circle pretty small, it's just Lulu, August, Nasira, Neil, Ryan, Astrid and August's father, Álvaro. You're still really closed off on yourself but people don't seem to mind nor to misinterpret it as you being cold and whatnot, they seem to understand. Maybe they don't, you don't really care if you're being honest. The best part about being at the Shore is that you get to see Daryl pretty much every day and you definitely can't complain about that. You still haven't spoken to Jesus but you've expressed wanting to do so to Daryl and he said he'll let him know that it's okay for him to come by and see you since that's apparently what your uncle has been waiting for; your green light.

 

Today, August ordered you to stay put, take a day off if you will, and rest because he dims it necessary for you to do so after the extreme week you've had and you, for once, didn't even try to protest the request. So, now, here you are; sitting on your couch, watching the fire in the chimney hungrily feeding off the logs you've ignite it on, balled up in an oversized hoodie, your hands closed around a hot mug of coffee and a small smile on your face as you listen to Neil signing with an awfully high-pitched voice as he prepares dinner for the two of you in your kitchen while Luna is heavily sleeping on the giant pillow you've found her while out on a run a two weeks ago, seemingly unbothered by her owner's awful singing, probably because she must be used to it by now, poor thing.

 

You get up off the couch with a sigh, tightly holding on to your steaming mug of coffee, quietly sipping on the warm black liquid as you make your way to the kitchen, " **N** eil? Neil, I-" you stop in your tracks to watch as Neil moves his hips from left to right and his voice gets louder, making you cringe, all whilst he pours the pastas he's been making out of the pan and into the strainer sitting in the sink, " **N** eil." you call out one more time, trying your hardest to keep the grin threatening to stretch your mouth out at bay and the Irish man finally hears you and turns around, a big and warm smile on his face as usual.

 

" **Y** eah, darlin'?" - " **Y** ou uh- D'you need help with anything?" you ask before sitting down on one of the stools behind the counter which lets the kitchen open out to the rest of the house, putting your coffee down on top of it before resting your elbows on the marble and your head on your now scared palms.

 

" **N** ah, love." he looks at you adoringly and you feel your cheeks burning under his stare, a small, nervous laugh leaving your mouth, making him chuckle, " **D** o ya?" he asks, his eyebrows raised up and, though you have no clue whatsoever what exactly he's making allusion to, you're smart enough to know that he's being inappropriate because he loves to make you uncomfortable though he never pushes past your boundaries and that's one of the reasons why you're so comfortable around him.

 

" **N** ope." you absently look down into your coffee, " **S** ay, I've been thinking and- Promise you won't get mad?" - " **F** 'course, darlin', y'know y'can talk to me, what's up?" he leans against the counter, leaving the pastas forgotten in the strainer as he turns his back to them to look at you.

 

" **W** ell-" you take a deep breath, " **O** kay, alright, so- Darn it-" - Neil chuckle, " **S** pit it out, sweet cheeks."

 

You really want to, you want to tell him that you thought things through and you came to the conclusion that you really need help to deal with everything going on in your mind, that you've been harming yourself again and you can't seem to stop it from happening every goddamn day God or whoever the fuck makes, that it hurts like a bitch and it feels like there's water filling your lungs but nothing comes out, nothing at all. You get scared and the words don't come out, they never do.

 

" **I** just uh- Y'know, I though it'll be n-nice to, like, have d-diner a-all together, you know, Lulu, Nasira, Y-You, August, h-his parents a-and Robin one night." you randomly spit out, " **W** ha-what d'you think?" - " **I** think that's a pretty damn good idea, love." his eyes narrow but stay soft, " **W** hat're you so nervous about it though? It's awesome that you actually feel like spending time with the family a lil'. I know you like bein' by your lonesome and all but- Yeah, t's'a great idea, darlin'."

 

He's not buying it, you know he's not stupid, far from it, yet another thing you love about the guy; his intelligence but, right now, you kinda hate that about him. You know he knows something else is up and you're thankful that he doesn't try and force it out of you, he's never forced you into talking about something you clearly didn't want to talk about and he isn't about to start now. So much for not getting attached to people, you love that ridiculously handsome Irish son of a bitch. 

 

 

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**5:00** **PM** **//**

 

With a sigh, you walk towards your front door as you frantically dry your hands into a towel, the constant knocking on the wooden door letting you know that August is back from his supply run. - " **J** eez, I'm coming!" you yell, hearing the man laugh behind the door and you can't help the smile breaking on your lips at the happy sound. You open the door wide to greet him, " **H** ey, August, ya bum."

 

" **H** ey, kiddo." he brings his hand up to messily run it through your hair, making you sigh in annoyance though you're still smiling, " **H** ow was your day?" - " **W** ell... Uneventful." you look at his bloody shirt, " **Y** ours sure seems like it's been a hell of a lot more interesting. Do tell."

 

" **A** ctually," the small smirk on the corner of his mouth tells you that he's up to something, hell, the tone of his voice gives it away, "how 'bout you come over for dinner tonight? Promise I'll let ya all about it then." His cockiness pushed aside, he's now giving you those damn puppy eyes of his and you can already feel your resolve breaking, " **A** ugust, I- I just- You know how I feel about that type of stuff, I'm just not- Like, great with- Y'know... People?"

 

" **I** t'll just be Robin, my parents and I, princess. Just a quiet night in, nothin' crazy." - " **Y** -yeah, I know but I- I just- It's just that- Ugh! I hate when you do that!" you point out, your finger poking at his chest, making him chuckle. - " **D** o what?" he teases, knowing damn well that you're referring to his damn puppy eyes.

 

He carefully grabs the hand the finger you're poking at his chest with belongs to and covers it with his much bigger one, " **C** 'mon, m'sure you've spent your whole day locked away in this damn house all by yourself, haven't you?" - " **A** ctually," you step closer to him and playfully poke his chest with your free hand, making him throw his head back and laugh at your stubbornness, "I'll have you know, good sir, that I've spend my day helping Álvaro clean guns and kicked Nasira's butt in a friendly little fight so, you shut your mouth."

 

He grabs your other hand and traps it in his much like he did with your other one, a grin showing his pearly whites as he looks down at you, " **Y** ou fought Nasira? And beat her?" you silently nod your head, biting down on your lower lip as you struggle to get your hands free from his, " **B** ut comin' over for dinner is too scary, uh?" he teases getting a bitchface from you which only seems to spur him on, " **C** 'mon, princess, I'll even be a gentleman and say please."

 

" **Y** ou're the freaking worst." you whine, wiggling around to try and get your hands out of his which makes him chuckle. - " **S** top pulling like that, kiddo, you're gonna hurt your wrists." - " **Y** eah, you're right." you stop and look at him, the devilish look in your normally innocent eyes making him smirk, " **H** ow about I just nail you in the groin, instead?"

 

He laughs and slowly lets go of your wrists, making sure you're not pulling anymore so that he doesn't hurt you without meaning to, " **S** ee ya tonight, kiddo." he gives your forehead a quick kiss before intelligently stepping out of arms reach and walking off your front porch, " **R** obin's making spaghetti... Well, my mom is, but, she'll want you to think she's the one doing the cookin'." he gives you a wink and walks off, waving at a few people on his way down the street.

 

" **J** erk." you whisper with a small smile before stepping back inside your house. You push the door close with your body before letting it rest against the heavy piece of wood, you sigh and decide to head for the shower, the feeling of grease and sweat drying on your skin not being something you dig all that much, oddly enough.

 

 

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**11:30** **PM** **//**

 

" **O** h, man- My stomach hurts." you whimper as you finally come down from the uncontrollable fit of laughter August has send you spiraling into after telling you about how he used to be scared of toilets when he was a little kid because he thought they'd come to live and swallow him while he was doing his thing and, for some reason, it just got to you.

 

" **A** lright, alright, damn, y'havin' fun makin' fun of my baby stories?" - " **O** h my God, yes." you giggle, unable to look at him without laughing again, " **I** 'm sorry- Sorry! M'sorry."

 

" **Y** ou're a terrible person." he says with a chuckle, making you playfully shove him to the side with your shoulder. He's insisted on walking you home so, here you are, walking in the empty streets of the Shore in the middle of the night, dim lights coming from a few houses lighting the streets. August explained to you that he didn't want any actual lights outside to avoid attracting attention and, really, you couldn't agree more with the way he sees things.

 

August is a good man and one hell of a leader, that much you know. Being around him is as easy for you as it is for him to be around you and neither of you can really explain it. You don't really feel the need to either, after all; why question a good thing? - " **H** ey, how about we sit down for a minute?" August proposes and you simply nod your head and smile at him as he silently walks you toward the big gazebo standing at the heart of the town in the middle of a huge patch of grass.

 

You both silently climb the few steps leading up to it and take a seat across one another, both letting a deep breath out at the same time, making you laugh in sync, " **S** o," you start, suddenly nervous, as you start to play with your fingers, "what's on your mind?" - " **T** hank you." he blankly spits out, making your brows furrow in confusion. - " **W** h- I don't-"

 

He chuckles at your sudden nervousness and confusion, " **E** ver since you first came here, Robin- She's changed. She's happier, more talkative, especially with me and, I just- I know it has something to do with you so, thank you." - " **A** ugust, no offence b-but, I really d-don't see how me, of all people, could make anyone come out of their b-bubble, I mean- Seriously, l-look at me, I'm a mess." you try to laugh it off but August doesn't seem to be getting with the program.

 

" **M** ind explaining me why people aren't so scared anymore now that they know you're around? Or how, ever since you came through, we're able to treat the kids with candies and comic books because you always bring some back for them? Y/n." you hesitantly look up at him, your right cheek stuck between your teeth, " **Y** ou seriously have no fuckin' clue how badly this fucked up world we're livin' in needs someone like you to keep it on its feet."

 

You fight so hard to keep your head from dismissively moving from side to side that it physically hurts but you brush it off and instead give August a small smile, " **R** obin's a tough little girl, you don't have to worry about her." you pause and shrug your shoulders, " **A** nd you surely don't need to worry about her not loving you because she does, more than you know that's for sure."

 

There's a small moment of silence where neither of you speaks, you just stare at each other, before August breaks it with a dry laugh and drops his head to look at the wooden floor beneath his feet, " **H** er mom-" he sighs, " **H** er mom died when she was three- Stupid car accident but uh... We had this huge fight, y'know?" he brings his head back up to look at you and you intently look back at him, silently letting him know that you're listening but also that he doesn't have to say any more if he doesn't want to, "The kind of fight that makes your blood boil and makes you spew out shit you don't really mean but you say just to get at one another, y'know the type?"

 

" **Y** eah." you softly say, " **Y** eah, I do." all too well, if you may add. - " **Y** ou two fought often?" he carefully asks, your answer to this previous question leading him to believe that you used to be in a relationship. - " **I** 've lost count." you admit with a humorless laugh, " **B** ut- This isn't about him, is it?" you state more than you ask, trying to get the attention back on August instead of you and your hellish relationship with Negan.

 

" **S** orry, I didn't mean to intrude or-" - " **N** o, no, it's okay. It's okay, really, don't worry about it." you give him a reassuring smile, getting one back from him, " **W** hat about you? Did you guys fight often?" - " **A** ll the fucking time." he quickly answers, clearly no hesitation to be had.

 

" **I** t just- I don't mean to be a dick to her because, God knows I loved the hell out of that woman but, she was just too- Lemme put it that way, with her, there was no in-between. It was either black or white, it's all good or like hell fucking broke loose, y'know? And, me? I can't get behind that kind of person, it confuses the shit outta me 'cause I don't see things that way. I don't believe in all good or all bad, I think there's gradients to this shit, you know?" - " **D** efinitely." you simply agree, seeing where he's coming from because, really, you're the same on this department.

 

" **I** don't know why I loved her so damn much- I just did. And, you know how people always say that there's no point in trying to explain something when it's good? That shit wasn't it, no matter how hard I tried, and still do to this day, I can't explain it to save my life. It's not that we were too different, loving someone identical to you comes with its problems too, it's just that- It just wasn't- We weren't good together, you know? Like a shit storm colliding with another shit storm." he sighs and reaches up to let his dreads out of the bun he usually wears them in, letting the long locks fall over his shoulders and he almost immediately runs a hand through them to flip them to the side.

 

" **I** t's just- That's night was so fucking bad, we were both out to tear the other a brand new one, y'know? And she just-" he looks at you like he's about to say the worst thing that could ever leave another human's mouth, " **S** he said me and Robin could both choke and die for all she cared- Robin was right there, she heard her mom say that she didn't give a shit if she was to die and I just- I lost my fucking mind when I saw my little girl trying so hard not to cry."

 

You have to keep your mouth shut not to say something you know you'll probably (?) regret later on at his confession, " **S** o I told her to get the hell out of my house, that I didn't want to see her again and that I never wanted her near Robin ever again, that I'd die before I'd let her hold my daughter again and she left without a fucking word- Got a phone call in the middle of the night telling me she got hit by a semi and died before the fire department could get her out of what was left of her car." - " **I** \- August, I'm sorry."

 

" **I** never told Robin, y/n." he lets out a dry laugh, his bright hazel eyes shinning with tears when he looks up at you, " **I** t probably doesn't fucking matter anymore but- What if she actually remembers that night? What her mom said? What if she remembers and she still thinks about that shit?"

 

" **Y** ou won't know until you ask her but, August, truth is, she probably does." when you see his body shaking, his muscles straining with the effort not to cry, you get up and silently make your way to him before sitting down right next to him. You carefully take his head in your hands and silently bring him closer to you before he finally lets his head drop on your shoulder, " **I** t's okay to cry, you know? Hell, I do it all the time." he lets out a muffled laugh against your skin and, before you know it, his hands are snaking beneath your thighs, carefully not to touch you inappropriately and he's lifting you up and settling you down on his lap, letting you nuzzle against him, your head falling in the crook of his neck and his resting on your shoulder.

 

You both stay like that for a good little while as you let August calm down on his own, respecting that he might not want to talk any more and you honestly can't blame him if he doesn't. - " **T** hanks, princess." he whispers against your skin as you absently play with the baby hair on the back of his neck, " **I** don't usually talk about this shit, it's fucking weird."

 

" **Y** eah, I don't usually like to talk about the deep stuff either, I don't think anyone does, really." - " **Y** eah, probably not." he lazily rubs your back up and down, the soothing motions and the warmth his body is letting out making it hard for you to stay awake and you can't help the yawn that leaves your mouth and makes August chuckle against you, " **A** lright, I think it might be time to call it a night, yeah?"

 

" **Y** ou're lame, old man." you mumbling against his neck, so heavy with sleep that you don't even try and protest when he puts a hand beneath both of your thighs and one to your back, securing you as he stands up, holding your very sleepy self against his chest and starts walking you back to your house. - " **N** ah, the night ain't over for me, princess, you're the one tapping out." he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as you mumble something that doesn't even make sense under your breath, " **S** ure, sweetheart, whatever you say."

 

 

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 **A** **WEEK** **LATER** **// 1** **:00** ** PM**  **//**

 

A soft yet firm knock on the door of your house wakes you up, your hand immediately reaching down to the waistband of your pants to rest of the handle of your knife, the movement as natural to you as breathing is. - " **Y** /n? Honey, it's Astrid." you hear August's mother softly announce herself through the thick wooden front door and immediately relax, letting your hand fall away from your knife.

 

You push yourself off the couch and sleepily walk to the front door, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, a small yawn escaping you the second you open the door and you blush before slapping a hand on your mouth to cover it though the moment's already passed, making Astrid laugh softly. - " **S** orry." you apologize, your cheeks a deep red.

 

" **N** o need, honey. I'm sorry to wake you, I know how hard it is for you to get sleep these days and God knows you deserve every second of rest you can get." - " **O** h- N-no, no, it's okay, Astrid, really." you step aside, yawning again, your hand firmly plastered on your mouth this time around, " **C** ome on in."

 

You shake your head as if to shake the sleep off as you close the front door behind Astrid, letting her walk herself into the living room and sit on the couch there. You immediately know something's wrong when you easily detect fear in her body language. - " **A** strid." you softly call out, making the woman look up at you with a gentle smile, " **W** hat's wrong? Is Robin okay?" your worries immediately go to August's little girl, afraid you might have missed something while you were asleep.

 

" **O** h, honey, she is, don't worry. She uh- She really likes you, you know?" - " **I** love that little ball of energy too." you say with a giggle, making Astrid smile. - " **H** ell, she might be full of it but so are you, honey. You're quite the battery actually."

 

A moment goes by when the two of you just laugh and you eventually get the two of you something to drink, making water boil for Astrid as your milk gets heated in the microwave. The older woman sits down at the kitchen's counter, her nails absently tapping of the marble. - " **A** strid, you're gonna tell me what's going on?" you press her on, leaning back against the counter top next to the stove where the water is boiling, and she gives you what almost looks like an apologetic smile as she looks up at you.

 

" **I** just- I'm not used to August being gone for so long, you know? And- And Robin is- I don't know what to tell her when she asks me where her father is, if he's alright, you know?" she immediately spots something flashing in your eyes, it's quick but she catches it, " **G** od, honey, I'm so sorry. You're always working so hard, always running around and I'm keeping you awake and probably worrying you with all my rambling, I'm so sorry-"

 

" **Y** ou think you could, uh, manage to take care of things around here, Astrid?" you ask, your eyes glued to the wooden floor, " **N** ot that- That I don't think you're capable but, like-" - " **H** oney, if you need to rest and take a break, I totally understand and I have your back, hundred percent. I'll take over things if you need the relief, no problem, alright?"

 

August's words keep on ringing through your head, him asking you to take over for him while he's gone, referring to helping friends with supplies because they're running short, having to stick together no matter what, the look in his eyes when he plead for you to stay behind and keep his family safe "just in case" because "you never know what could happen out there".

 

You remember what he'd said;

 

" **T** hose people? They trust you, y/n. And they've got every reasons to, you're more fit to be a leader than I'll ever be, hell, than anyone'll ever be." he laughed softly, " **D** amn- Could ya ever have imagined we'd become so damn close that night I brought you back here?"

 

" **N** ope." you said, letting the "p" pop out of your mouth, and you giggled as August let an amused huff out, " **B** ut- Y'know, I'm not complaining."

 

You suddenly felt nervous and started to pull on your fingers, your eyes looking down at them as you did, " **I** -I mean- It's just- It's so tiring to a-always- Y'know- It just- I feel like the list of people I can't count on is, l-like, way longer than the one of people that I-" you abruptly stopped, August looking at you more intently after the sudden stop, " **T** hat I can actually trust." at that, he smiled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, lingering longer than he usually would.

 

Wheels have been clicking together in your head the second the gates closed behind him and it brought you to the one conclusion you didn't want to come to; he's out there helping another community involved with Negan or, at the very least, one on his radar and he could get him killed faster than he probably even thought.

 

The obnoxious noises coming from the kettle next to you snap you out of your thoughts, your hand clumsily reaching out to turn the fire off when you feel a gentle hand resting on your shoulder, making you turn back around to look at Astrid. - " **T** -thank you." you whisper, your voice shaking with the rush of adrenaline your body's just received after being brought back to reality so brutally.

 

" **O** f course, honey. Are you- Are you alright?" - " **Y** -yeah, I just uh-" you let out a nervous laugh, " **I** think I just need to eat something, y'know?"

 

Silently, you pour the hot water in a clear glass mug before handing it to Astrid for her to put whatever she wants in it and you let out a small frustrated sigh when you realize that you have to heat your milk up again because it's gone cold from being left alone for too long.

 

 _he better be okay, fucking idiot, what's he thinking? he should have told us, we should just get him back, make sure he's okay, then kick his stupid ass and make him regret that nothing actually did happen to him while he was out there... fucking idiot_.

 

 

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**7:00 PM //**

 

You've spend three hours packing up, your backpack filled with your personal belongings and the duffel bag August gave you and Astrid sewed your name on is now filled with clothes you've found out on runs, half of your ration of food as you're leaving the other half behind, to lessen the impact if something was to happen out there and you don't make it back, as well as your bow, your arrows and a fully loaded gun and shotgun which you happen to really appreciate now that your shoulder is finally starting to heal, thanks to Nasira.

 

You take a deep breath and take a look around the house that now looks and feels incredibly empty without all your shit laying around, it feels like the first night you got there; foreign and anxiety inducing.

 

You're wearing an open black and grey flannel, the sleeves rolled up a little on your forearms, with a simple white cotton shirt underneath, your white bra blending perfectly with it, and a pair of washed off dark blue jeans, your butterfly knife tugged away into the waistband as it always is, your hands covered by the finger-less black leather combat gloves you've found and grown oh-so-fond-of over the last few weeks, soft cushions protecting your sore and bruised knuckles, and you tighten the strap holding them in place around both of your wrists, making sure they're secure before kneeling down to tightly tie your combat boots up.

 

After making a quick check on everything, you carefully take the loaded handgun out of your duffel, make sure the safety's on, and just as carefully tug it in the back of your pants, the flannel you're wearing easily covering it as it rests mid-butt on your body. Minding your sore shoulders, you slip your backpack on and let your duffel rest over your right shoulder before taking a deep breath and walking out of the house before your emotions end up getting the best of you and freeze you on the spot.

 

The soft light produced by the sun setting is casting over the whole town, the sky a mix of orange, pink and purple, and you stand there for a second, taking the place in. "For good measures" is what you tell yourself but, deep down, you know it's because you're pretty damn sure that you won't be coming back, not from this trip, and it makes a huge lump form in your throat. You hear kids giggling and letting high-pitched screams out as they chase each other around the place, you watch as Robin runs around, growling and threatening the other kids to eat their brains, making them scream and laugh and you can't help the smile forming on your lips though your eyes are filled with tears.

 

Looking at Robin, watching her hair bounce with every moves she makes, her dress moving along with her and her eyes crinkled from laughing and smiling; that's when it hits you. You're in Paul's shoes right at this moment, you're facing the same situation he has years ago and then had to face again when you got to Hilltop that night. There's this little girl, that little girl who looks up to you, loves you and has nothing but admiration for you and then- Then there's you, a grown up with obligations, a girl with codes she's too stubborn to let go of, a girl with morals she's too hard-headed to ignore.

 

You leaving means bringing August back because, Heaven knows and you might as well let Hell fucking know too, that Robin will get her dad back, **no matter what it costs you**. You'd throw yourself under a fucking bus for this little girl and, if her getting her father back means leaving her, then so be it. You would have given anything to get your dad back when you were a little girl, you're not about to let Robin know what kind of pain it is to grow up without parents around, she's already lost her mother, she won't lose her father, not on your fucking watch.

 

Paul couldn't find it in him to say goodbye because he didn't want to believe that he'll never see you again, just like you know damn well you won't be able to do with Robin, and then, when he got you back, he didn't allow himself back into your life because he'd hurt you before and he wasn't sure if he was allowed a second chance. A single tear slips down your face to end up on the clean leather of your boot at the memory of the day your uncle left your third's birthday party, how he kept repeating that he loved you, how he held you a little tighter than he usually would, how, in the back of your little girl's mind, you knew something was wrong but you were terrified to ask, you weren't even sure what you were supposed to question.

 

What are you supposed to do? What the hell are you supposed to tell Robin? That you're leaving and won't be coming back? Then she'll ask why, those puppy eyes of hers trying to get an answer out of you, then what? You'll tell her that you won't be coming back because there's a fifty percent chance that you'll die trying to get to her dad and all because he's made a stupid move? How the hell do you explain how cruel people are nowadays to a little girl? How is she supposed to understand it when even you can't. If you tell her you're leaving to go and get her dad, she'll ask why and if you tell her that he might be in trouble, she'll ask what kind of trouble...

 

Then what? You tell her that a man you just might happen to hold in your heart is the kind of man who enjoys bathing in the coldness of this new world and that there's a chance her father got himself tangled up into a real fucking mess that most likely will end up in a blood bath. You can't. You won't. Robin deserves to be a child for a little while longer, while she still can. Telling her the honest truth would be ripping that right out of her and crush it beneath your boots.

 

If her dad wants her to learn someday, he'll take care of it, but you? You refuse to be the one. After all, you know all too damn well how badly growing up too fast hurts, what kind of damages it causes and they're permanent. Your eyes go back and forth between the kids playing happily around the place and you're somewhat very interesting boots, your mind a messy blur as it tries to process everything at the same time but it's just all too much. - " **H** ey, y/n!" Lulu's voice makes your head snap up and you immediately regret looking up when you see her gaze falling on the duffel bag over your shoulder and your backpack on your back.

 

" **W** ha- Y/n? You goin' somewhere?" there's confusion and what might very well be a drop of anger in her voice and you feel like a little kid who's just got caught eating the last damn cookie. - " **I** uh- I'm j-just headin' out to bring August and the others back. They might be in trouble, I mean, they should have been back by now, right? So, y-yeah... Didn't say anything 'cause I d-didn't want to worry anyone, y'know?" - " **L** et me come with you-"

 

" **N** o!" you protest way too quickly and it only makes Lulu's eyes narrow so much as she takes a step forward to stand right at the bottom of the four little steps leading up to your house's porch. - " **Y** /n, what's goin' on? If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know that... right?"

 

" **Y** -yeah- Yeah, I-I know, Lu." you give her a small smile to try and hide the fact that you're actually terrified, " **B** ut I- Uh, I need t-to do this alone, alright?" - " **W** hy? You don't always have to be alone, y/n, we're a group, we stick together, we help each other out. What makes you believe that you have to head out there all alone?"

 

" **B** ecause the seriously disturbed man I, maybe, happen to have really strong feelings for may, eventually, very well be already tracking August and the rest of your friends down just because they went out there, head first, without even thinking about what kind of shit consequences those actions would have and I can't just sit there and wait for someone to get their head bashed in for no reason other than that they happened to get tangled up in a shit storm of a mess they should have run from but didn't because they didn't know any better. _"_ is what you should tell her, the truth. The cold, hard, and pretty damn psychotic sounding truth but, you don't.

 

Instead, you look back down at your boots and stutter, " **I** -I just- I don't want anyone to be in danger, alright? August's gone, he took six of your people with him, you guys need to stay here and keep the place on its feet, Lulu. I know what I'm doing out there, okay?" you let out a tired laugh, " **P** lus, I always work better when I'm on my own, people kinda burden me-" you look up at her, " **N** o offense."

 

Yeah, this isn't the complete honest truth but, still, you mean every word. You're not used to working with other people and you never planned on doing so. You like being alone, you find comfort in your loner ways and, let's be honest here, you don't actually need anyone. You're a one-woman-army, you handle and get shit done like they should be. You don't do dumb, over the top shit, you simply do what you gotta do, take whatever you came for, never more, never less. Most people don't know when to fucking quit and it has the tendency to piss you off quite monumentally.

 

You've been with other people before, you know the drill. Some people will find just about any fucking excuse to kill someone else, to steal from someone else. People are greedy, needy, selfish, loud, obnoxious and pretty damn fucking stupid in your honest opinion, you don't have the patience to deal with those stupid creatures. When you look around and watch other human beings behave, it's no wonder you actually question what the fuck you're supposed to be because you sure as shit don't come even a little close to behaving like other people.

 

" **A** lright. You be safe out there." and, just like that, she walks off, her nonchalance catching you off guards and, before you can't stop yourself, you speak words you shouldn't have. - " **W** hat, I don't get a goodbye hug?" - " **N** ope." she turns back around, a small smile on her face, " **B** ut you'll get a welcome back hug when you get back, soldier." she winks at you and walks off.

 

And that, right there, is why you shouldn't have said a damn thing. Because now, you know that she knows. You know she knows you're not sure if you'll actually be coming back or not. The fact that she so easily saw through you makes you wonder if Robin will too and, now, you wonder if saying goodbye to her is such a good idea after all. You're even more nervous than you were minutes ago about talking to the little girl.

 

_fuuuuck._

 

You have to do it though, you know that. You can't just leave and bail on her like that, she deserves an explanation. You've already made up your mind; you won't tell her that you might not come back, you're just saying goodbye for the time being and that's that. No matter what happens out there, it'll be worth it if it brings August safely back to her and, in your mind, there's no debating that. You're not about to risk letting that little girl grow up without her dad just because you took too long to make a goddamn decision and that's final.

 

 

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 **MIDNIGHT** **//**

 

Bright lights and the sound of people being way too fucking loud as they speak in the middle of the night, in the middle of the fucking woods, out in the open, none the less, catch your attention and, without even realizing it, your hand slowly reaches back around your body to get a hold of your gun, cocking its chamber back and taking the safety off all whilst you carefully get closer to the source of light and the voices echoing through the normally silent woods except for the grunts coming from the few walkers roaming around, looking for their next meal.

 

As you get closer and closer, your eyes are forced to narrow because of the intensity of the lights shinning through the thick bushes and trees' branches, they're white lights and the large number of them only adds to their intensity. For a moment, you wonder what the hell is going on and you're almost about to walk off, after quickly deciding that you probably shouldn't get involved with whatever bullshit is happening here- That is until you hear Nasira's voice as she spits out what you clearly recognize as swears in Arabic.

 

_what the hell?_

 

You carefully and silently stretch yourself out a little to try and get a look on the situation and, the moment you do, your blood turns cold as ice as your eyes land on a bloodied and clearly injured August, on his knees... Just like the rest of the six others he took with him; Nasira, Neil, Ryan, Ash, Álvaro and a young guy you've actually became close to named Taylor, all seemingly in pretty bad shape but you can't really see the true extends of the damages from where you're standing. Yet, you don't need to get any closer to feel the tension, thick enough to cut with a knife, reigning in the chilly air of the night.

 

" **S** on of a-" - " **H** ope you weren't 'bout to swear there, sweet cheeks." you were so focused on your distressed friends that you didn't even hear the fucker sneaking up on you, " **S** 'not very lady like, ain't it?"

 

You don't get to spit the sarcastic comment you honestly didn't even get the time to come up with when the stranger behind you picks you up like you're some rag-doll, keeping you firmly against him and, immediately, panic kicks in as your mind gets flung back to what always seems to happen whenever a stranger lays claim on you like that. You're not about to let that same damn song play again, you're fucking sick of it. You won't let it.

 

Aimlessly, you start kicking your feet around, spitting every curse words you know at the man holding you in his grip, only making him laugh and hum nonchalantly in mocked approval. - " **L** et me go you fucking pig!" the lights get brighter as he brings you closer to their source and, though your eyes are squinted shut, you finally manage to shove your elbow in the asshole's stomach, forcing him to let go of you and you're quick to fall back on your feet, " **Y** ou stupid fuck." you spit before your left fist comes crashing down on the man's nose, the quite disgusting sound of the bridge of his nose breaking at the impact echoing through the woods.

 

The man falls on the dirt covered ground and you quickly withdraw your gun from your jeans for the second time tonight, turning around when you hear gasps behind you, only to come face to face with a bruised up and injured August. You swear you can feel your heart cracking at the sight. He has a small smile on his lips as he takes you in, blood pouring out of the deep cut on his arcade and the one on his cheekbone to pour down on his face, droplets of blood falling on the ground beneath him and silent tears start to roll down on yours.

 

" **Y** ou lil' bitch!" are the, oh so charming, words you hear before the blunt end of the handle of a freaking machine gun hits your cheekbone dead-on, right above the still healing cut in the hollow of your cheek, and you can feel that the skin teared right up as you hit the ground, coughing as dust gets into your lungs.

 

The hit didn't do jackshit to put you down though, it only finished setting your nerves on fire with anger and you glare up at the man who just hit you as he looks down on you, frowning, clearly expecting submission from you, which he will not get, you'd rather die. - " **H** ey! You touch her again and I'll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch!" you hear August spit behind you and the man in front of you moves, probably to get to him, which makes you panic, fearing for your friend's safety.

 

You don't think, not for a moment, before shoving the blade of your butterfly knife right in the fucker's ankle, pushing the blade right through a few thin muscles but not making irreparable damages. The man insults you some more, making your eyes roll at the played out curses, and his heavily booted foot comes in contact with your stomach. The already sore muscle makes its discomfort well known and you cry out in pain, feeling your whole stomach violently clench up on itself.

 

" **T** hat's enough!" you recognize the angry voice and you actually allow yourself to relax a little as you curl up into a ball on the dirty ground, holding your stomach, knowing that you're somewhat safe now that he's around, " **W** ho the fuck gave you the fucking right to fucking touch her like that, you fucking stupid fuck?" there's a disapproving growl when the man tries to protest and he falls silent again, " **G** et the fuck back in line before I do somethin' I ain't supposed to."

 

Heavy footstep make their way towards you and, finally, he crouched down, allowing you to see his face through your tears blurred vision. -" **H** -hey, S-Simon." - " **H** eya, pumpkin." he gives you a soft smile, the one he only ever gives to you, before reaching out for you, trying to help you up and pushing you through it even when you cry out in protest, the pain making your head ache and your ears ring, " **S** orry, pretty girl." his voice is hushed but you're not sure if he's actually speaking quietly or if it's just because your ears are ringing so damn loudly, " **G** otta get you in line, pumpkin, m'sorry, I know it sucks."

 

" **D** o you?" you can't help it as, for once, your mind and your mouth seem to work with one another and you bark out the words without even hesitating a little. Simon doesn't say anything back because, really, what is there to say to that? And silently walks you towards August and the others, helping you kneel though you bitterly push his hands off of you to stand on your own. Ryan is on your left and on your right is Taylor. You don't even try and look for August nor look up at Ryan, too angry to even acknowledge either of them right now.

 

Blood is pouring straight out of your fresh wound, sliding all the way down your face and dripping off of your chin to fall on the hard ground you're kneeling on, one little red pearl at the time, but you don't pay any attention to it, you just stand straight up, your head high and your eyes glued to the goddamned R.V you now know Negan took from Rick's group (which you also know have now found another which happened to be way more trust worthy and much more comfy) and you wait. You wait for him to make his over-the-top-entrance, you nostrils slightly twitching with nerves because you can picture him clear as day standing behind that stupid fucking rusted door, a wolfish grin on his stupid fucking face, his fucking stupid bat propped over his shoulder as he patiently waits, letting it all build up because it just wouldn't be as fun otherwise now, would it?

 

Finally, it happens. The door of the old R.V slams open, bouncing off the wall behind it when it makes contact before slowly coming back and, the second Negan walks far away enough for it to close, the door falls back and clicks shut as if on fucking timer. At this point, you almost want to give this man some credit for his theatrical ways.

 

_hollywood eat your ass out._

 

" **W** hy, hell-fucking-o!" His eyes scan the line up though they don't fall on you just yet and you're quite thankful for that because the fire you had a few seconds ago? Yeah, nah, it's gone, there's not even a damn amber left in there, " **A** w, why the long faces? **Y** 'all are seriously crushing my shit right now, honestly. M'trying to be a good fuckin' host here, people!"

 

" **N** egan-" Simon starts, his eyes never leaving you though you're now looking down at the ground, watching as the blood keeps on pouring out of your cheekbone to fall on the same spot in the dirt, forming a little puddle. - " **N** ow, what the fuck was all that fuckin' noise about, uh? Y'all can't behave or some'? If that's the fuckin' case, you're gonna wanna learn to do so real fuckin' quick 'cause my patience tends to run real fuckin' short when it comes to this shit, am I makin' myself clear, dickheads?"

 

You hear Negan's boots crushing the dirt beneath them as he walks up the line and you swear you feel your blood freeze in your veins when his black boots stop right in front of you, " **O** h, no fuckin' way." you can hear the smirk in his voice but there's something else to it, something you don't particularly like if you're being honest. Your whole body jump and you squeeze your eyes shut when he crouches down and you flinch again when you feel his gloved hand grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him only to be met with your tightly shut eyes and the low chuckle he lets out makes you want to cry like a kid getting scolded at.

 

" **W** ell, what do we have here?" it shouldn't, it really shouldn't, but having him so damn close to you, touching you and actually talking to you after so damn long makes your whole body feel tingly and warm, " **L** ook at me, baby girl, c'mon." and, just like disobeying him goes against every cell of your being, you shakily breathe in and open your eyes, your vision blurry with tears but he's clear as fucking crystal to you.

 

" **M** 'sorry." you choke out, your voice shaky and barely there. You know you don't have anything to apologize for but you can't help it, the words just left your mouth right there and then as the need you've felt to do right by me once again overwhelmed you right on the spot.

 

He smirks, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips, clearly pleased with your behavior but you're not too sure how you feel about it, " **G** oddamn, you just keep on gettin' prettier and prettier, don't ya, princess?" his gloved hand tightens down on your jaw, making you flinch but he ignores the sudden movement, used to that type of reaction from you, before he tilts your head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing as he spots the healing cut, and soon to be scar, going across the hollow of your cheek before landing on the fresh one on your cheekbone, watching as blood comes pouring out the freshly teared skin, " **T** hat's real fuckin' fresh, kitten, y'mind tellin' me who the fuck's responsible for that?" he orders more than he asks and all you do is quickly look at the man standing a few feet away from you but that's enough for Negan to understand that he's the one.

 

He takes a second, his eyes on yours as his thumb swipes across your cheek, leaving a messy trail of your blood on the skin and, when he leans forward to kiss your forehead, you can't help but close your eyes and melt into it. The moment is short lived though and not even a whole minute passes when Negan swiftly stands up to face the man who hurt you, fear filling his eyes as the realization of how badly he's just fucked up hits him and he takes a small step back but stops when Negan tsks him, obeying him like a dog would his owner. You almost pity the man- _almost_.

 

You know what's about to happen, the way he's carrying himself, the fact the his grip on Lucille is clearly tightening, yet, when it happens, you can't help the tears that start to fall out of your eyes all willy-nilly. In just a minute, there's nothing left of the man's head, just blood and chunks of his skull and a wickedly satisfied smile on Negan's lips. You can't see anyone because of the tears drowning your eyes but you can hear Negan swear and then let out a mean laugh, _that damn laugh_. You also hear his foot steps as he walks back to you, the sounds of pure shock and fear coming from August's group and you can't help but feel like you're to blame for what's happening and it makes your heart ache.

 

" **Y** our lil' friends there? They've fucked up big time, darlin'"

 

_what the hell did those idiots that we love do?_

 

" **I** -I'm sure i-it was an honest m-mistake- Negan, I- P-Please?" you plead as tears silently soak your face, mingling with the fresh blood leaking from your fresh wound, making the smell of copper in the air even stronger. - " **Y** a think s'what it was, kitten?" he asks and you're unsure if he's being sarcastic or not, his face coming back into view as he kneels back down in front of you, " **A** n honest mistake?"

 

" **A** -August, what d'you do?" you ask the leader of the group though you're not sure where he is in the line up but Negan clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth at that. - " **N** uh-uh, you ain't talkin' with him, baby. You're talkin' with me, right now." his eyes linger on you for a long minute and you can't say a damn thing nor move a muscle, you're just kneeling there, tears falling out of your eyes without a sound.

 

" **F** uck that." he mumbles, " **W** e're gonna let these dickheads call **their** fuck up whatever the fuck they want. I'm gonna kill one of 'em and we'll call it even, let 'em go home since they've been nice enough to bring me my lil' baby back and then we'll go home and I'll fuck you into next week to make up for lost time, yeah?" again, it shouldn't, and it's probably fucked up that it does, but this man affects you in ways you don't understand and quite honestly scares you, yet you can't help but feel lightheaded at his words.

 

The tingly feeling quickly disappears though when you see Negan pushing himself back onto his full length and bracing the arm firmly holding Lucille up, his eyes glued on who you can only assume to be August in your moment of panic and you swear your heart stops beating at the thought of what might happen in a short second. - " **W** -wait! Wait, hold on, man!" Ryan shouts right next to you, his eyes wide open as they swing back and forth between the leader of the Shore and the leader of the so called "Saviors", " **I** f you're gonna kill someone then let it be me, I ain't got shit to go home to-"

 

" **R** yan, you shut your goddamn mouth." you hear August growl and that's all you need to confirm your suspicion; the person Negan is eyeing is August. Soon enough, the whole line up explodes and everyone starts to bark at one another in front of a really much so entertained Negan.

 

He leans back as he usually does whenever he wholeheartedly laughs and then straightens back up, his stare immediately falling on yours, his eyebrows raised in amusement and confusion; you know he's silently asking you what the hell you've gotten yourself into and you can even hear the way he would phrase it oh so sarcastically. - " **A** lright, dickheads, you all seem like an happy bunch of assholes and, boy, I do love me so drama, really, I do-" he dramatically shrugs, " **B** ut this shit's gettin' real fuckin' boring real fuckin' quick. Now, I get it, believe me, seen it before. Been there, done that and all that crap. I know emotions are running high but, if we could make this quick so I can move on with my fucking life, I'd really appreciate it so-" he doesn't finish his sentence, just raises his bat back up, both hands now tightly around the strong wood and he fully turns his body towards August, smiling like a kid on Christmas day.

 

" **H** e's saved my life!" you cry out, panic overtaking you and Negan drops his weapon back down with a growl, clearly getting irritated by the constant interruptions at this point but your words seem to have picked his interest none the less. - " **W** hat's that, baby girl?" he asks, his voice low and his head tilted to the side as he stands still right in front of August but his attention is now fully on you and so is the rest of the group's.

 

" **H** e- He saved my life, Negan. I- I got- I got into big troubles and-and he- he and his people, those people," you look down the line up to meet Nasira, Álvaro and Ryan's stare, "they t-took care of me when they-" you drop your head, Negan stare too heavy on you to be able to stand it any longer. - " **W** hen they what, doll?" his voice is almost threatening as he makes his way towards you, your body shaking the closer he gets and your head locks down when he kneels back right in front of you, his eyes burning hole in the top of your head, " **F** inish your damn thought, kitten. Y'know how I feel about that shit."

 

" **W** -when they could have l-left me t-to die." you whisper, " **W** hen they sh-should have." your voice is even lower, barely audible, as you speak those words you didn't mean to let out but did under the pressure of Negan's stare. There's nothing said, nothing to be heard but a few owls going around the woods until Negan lets out a dry laugh, a sound you hate because it always indicates one thing; he's pissed. 

 

But then, next thing you know, the entire right side of your face gets covered in blood, it splatters on your cheek, temple, nose, jaw, your hair and your neck as the sickening sound of the young man's kneeling to your right skull gives out under the pressure of Lucille as the bat is violently brought down on his head over and over again until there's nothing left of it. - " **N** ow!" Negan's voice booms and makes everyone jump on their spot but, for once, it doesn't affect you all that much. Granted, it's probably because you're too busy fixing the bloody, disgusting mess of what's left of Taylor's head on the ground beside you, his body laying there as blood keeps pouring out of his neck.

 

It's disgusting but you can't look away, your eyes are filled with tears, some already rolling down your face, and your forehead is creased as your mind tries to understand what the hell is going on, " **L** et me make something real fucking clear here, dickheads! I don't usually do this shit, hell, I never do this shit but, y'know what? I'm feelin' real fucking nice tonight so, here's what's gonna happen now; y'all gonna drag your sorry asses back to wherever the fuck you came from, forget about my girl over here," he pauses to look at you and sees you kneeling there, looking completely lost and upset, your eyes glued to the poor bastard who feel victim to Negan's wrath, "'cause, she's mine. Y'see, lil' miss missy over here, she's got a hard time behaving sometimes but, she just so happens to be my favorite so I always let it slide, ain't that right, kitten?" you finally look up at him, your eyes puffy and your face soaked in tears and blood, " **N** ow, I want you all to go the fuck back home and think real hard about how that sweet lil' thing just saved your sorry asses from being stuck with me for the long ride."

 

A quick twirl of his finger in the air and Negan's men all start moving around you, you hear the faint click of a picture being snapped and you don't need to look to know that someone's just taken a picture of Taylor's dead body. You can't move a damn muscle, it feels like you can't even blink or swallow, everything hurts and it's all too overwhelming for you to get a grip on. You faintly hear Negan say, " **A** nd don't let me catch you slipping again you sorry fucks 'cause I won't be so fucking nice next time around."

 

Your whole body jumps when August is suddenly right in front of you, his eyes filled with guilt, sadness and exhaustion as he looks at you, trying his hardest to give you a smile to reassure you. You quietly reach out for him with shaky hands and are unable to hold your sobs back anymore when he quickly leans down to take you in his arms, hushing you as he settles you on his thighs and pushes your head into the crook of his neck. - " **I** 'm sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry, kiddo." he whispers against the side of your head into your blood soaked hair, " **M** 'so fucking sorry."

 

" **T** h-thank you, August- for everything." you whisper against his skin, " **T** hank you so much." a surprised squeal and a choked sob escape you when you're forcefully ripped away from August and get crushed against Negan's hard chest, your heart beating out of control. - " **H** ey, take it easy, man." August puts his hands up in defense, " **I** was just sayin' goodbye is all."

 

You don't get to say nor do anything when Simon comes up and, with a nod from his boss, takes you away from the two men and brings you into the R.V, making you miss the conversation between the two leaders. - " **L** isten here, fuckhead," he carelessly steps into August's personal space, "you already got real fuckin' lucky tonight, don't fucking push this shit." is all you can catch before Simon closes the door of the R.V after walking you into it, locking the damn thing and you immediately start banging on it in protest, your claustrophobia taking over and making it hard for you to breathe in the closed space.

 

You quickly give it up though and instead decide to sit down at the table in the R.V, folding your arms on top of the wooden table and hiding your face into them, you finally let go. Your whole body is shaking and violently rocking with every body ripping through you, the noises bouncing off the table top, your tears soaking the wood, and your head starts to painfully throb. Everything just seems so fucked, like your whole world just got crushed. Again.

 

 

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" **W** ho's been real fuckin' bad?" You knew. The second Negan had told Simon to take the lead and drive back to the Sanctuary with everyone else, that he'll catch up later because he had "things" to "attend to", you knew you were in deep shit but you didn't expect things to take that turn.

 

You can't explain how the fuck you ended up in this position in the first place because, really, it happened so fast you couldn't wrap your head around it if you wanted to. All you know is that; your whole upper body is pushed flush against the hard surface of the table you were simply sitting at a minute ago, your hands behind your back tied together with Negan's belt so tightly it hurts, the leather digging into the skin of your wrists, your tiptoes the only thing touching the R.V's linoleum floor, your heart thumping in your ears, fear making it beat out of control and there's so many tears falling from your eyes that they've ended up forming a puddle on the table top your face is pressed against.

 

Your pants are down, pooling at your ankles and your flannel button-up is bunched up at the middle of your back, letting Negan have complete access to your rear though you still have your undies on. You're scared shitless but it's not because of him. For some probably real fucking stupid reason, part of you knows damn well that the man towering above you would never actually hurt you or cross a line he knows you're not ready for him to cross. You're scared because your mind and body both remember pretty damn clearly the last time you got put in restrains by a man and what said "man" tried to do to you, that's what scares you; memories, the infamous aftermath of sexual assault. Yeah, this time around, it's not just some random creep, it's Negan, but still; it doesn't appease you and you're pretty sure your heart is about to burst in your chest with fear and panic.

 

A gloved hand harshly comes down on your bare skin, your panties doing close to nothing to conceal you, making you cry out and claw at the leather digging into your wrists, " **H** ow about you speak when spoken to, kitten?" the tone of his voice is so condescending, you feel like shit for the way your body is reacting to it. - " **M** -me!" - " **W** hat's that, angel?" - " **I** -I've b-been bad."

 

" **S** 'that right, kitten?" he mocks before bringing his gloved hand down on your skin again, making you whimper and cry out in pain, " **W** ell, tell me then, what exactly did you do, uh?" - " **I** r-ran a-away, m's-sorry!" you cry out against the table top your face is forced down on. - " **Y** eah, you fucking did, and where d'you go, uh?"

 

" **T** -to se-see m-my friends." you whisper, the leather of his glove crashing down on your skin once again and you find yourself trying to squirm away from him, from his hits, but the belt tightly wrapped around your wrist, holding both of your arms behind your back, keeps you from gaining any leverage or wiggle room, " **D** -daddy, pl-please! M'sorry, m'sorry!"

 

" **I** know you are, baby." he says, his breath now hitting the back of your neck, his closeness making you jump beneath him, " **B** ut you've misbehaved and I have to put you back into your goddamn place otherwise you'll never fuckin' learn now, will ya?" - " **N** -no, no, no, m'sorry, I w-won't do it ag-again, I promise!"

 

" **W** hy the hell's daddy's car parked in fuckin' Alexandria, baby girl?" he presses on, ignoring your protest, " **Y** ou mind explainin' **that** to me?" he continues, bringing his hand down on your butt yet again, watching the rough leather covering his hand mark your fragile skin, almost looking like its about to tear.

 

_when... did he go to alexandria? did he hurt anyone? what the hell happened?_

 

" **D** -Daryl gave me a ri-ride back home a-after R-Randall-" - " **S** o you gave him one of my cars, that it?" - " **I** j-just wanted him to-to get h-home safely, d-daddy, I'm s-sorry." you sob out against the wood, unable to calm yourself down.

 

" **Y** ou shouldn't even have been out there in the first fuckin' place, kitten, y'know the fucking rules." he says, his voice now even more gravely and low that it naturally already is and you can't help the whimper that comes out of your mouth when he's talking right against the shell of your ear, " **A** nythin' else you wanna tell me, baby girl? Y'just remember that before you open your mouth; daddy doesn't like liars, kitten."

 

You tightly purse your lips together and quickly shake your head, probably too quickly, but he doesn't insist and slowly moves away from you, leaving you feeling too cold and vulnerable. He quickly comes back to you and your entire body jolts forward when you feel something cold on the heated skin of your butt cheeks; he's taking care of the marks he's left on you, he's making sure to ease the slight pain and discomfort. It probably shouldn't, you know that, but the fact that he's taking care of you, that he's being so damn gentle now, makes you whimper and mewl underneath him.

 

He carefully frees your hands from his belt and also takes some time to rub lotion on the red skin, heated from you pulling too harshly on the restrains and, lost in the tenderness of his ministrations, you completely overlook the fact that he can now see, clear as day, the new scars on your wrists underneath the burn marks his belt has left; the one he's not responsible for.

 

Without breaking the silence, he gently takes your boots off and slips your pants all the way down and off your legs, leaving you in your panties, flannel and shirt before wrapping his arms around you, turning you around and lifting you up without a single word to walk you over to the twin sized bed in the very back of the R.V to carefully lay you down the mattress, on your stomach so that your sore butt doesn't have to make contact with anything. You flinch when he bends down to kiss the very corner of your mouth and then turns his back to you to, just as silently, walk back to the front of the large vehicle and start the engine, quickly looking at you through the review mirror before swerving, driving through the woods and back on the road.

 

Not a single word is spoken between the two of you yet it feels like you've just had a full-on conversation through those stares and that little kiss. You fall asleep reassured that he's missed you as much as you've missed him.

 

 

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﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

 

 

 **6:00** **AM** **//**

 

You're here, back "home" if you let Negan tell it, though it's more like your own personal hell if you're the one telling it, lucky you; you're not. The first thing to catch your eyes is the dead body sitting on a giant rusted pipe, your blood freezing when you recognize said body, or what's left of it. The piece of trash who tried and violated your boundaries is right here, impaled on an old, filthy, rusted pipe, his jaw snapping away at the air, looking for something to chew on but the detail that really gets you is that he's completely naked, his genitals nowhere to be found... There's nothing there, it's just a bloody, disgusting mess of shredded flesh and a hole that lets that man's guts drip out of the flesh bag that his body's become.

 

This just has Negan written all over it and it both comfort and scares the shit out of you. It scares you because you find yourself wishing that you could have been the one doing this to him, because you're actually upset that you didn't get to be the one nor even watch it happen. Yes, you've killed him, but that's not the same. It fucking terrifies that you suddenly wish you were able to do what Negan does on a daily basis with a clean coincidence when he goes to bed at night and you're not comfortable with that thought, not at all. But you can't escape it because it's real, it's the realest thing you've ever felt.

 

Yet, at this very moment, you also realize just how safe you actually are with him and how badly you need him around you. If anyone ever caught you saying that, they'd send you to the nearest psychiatric yard and lock you in there but you can't help it, you actually truly believe that; his insanity is what keeps you sane, his twisted mind is what keeps yours pure and his wicked ways what keeps your attentions innocent. His insanity and wickedness give you balance and, though you don't realize it yet, your innocence and purity give him one as well.

 

But here's the thing that terrifies you the most about this man's presence; if that son of a bitch has fallen into Negan's hands, it means that, at some point, Negan must have come into the fucker's house, means that he probably heard him groaning in the attic, means that he went in there... Which also means that there's a chance he might have seen the pictures that disgusting man took of you because, last time you've checked, you did not think to destroy them, you just ran off and locked the fucker into his stupid fucking attic... It means that he also most likely saw the chains aforementioned fucker kept you locked in, probably saw the clothes you were wearing the last time he saw you, the day you were taken away from him, and you can feel goosebumps covering every inch of skin there is on your body at the though of him knowing what happened, of him seeing those fucking pictures.

 

" **N** -Negan-" you start, your voice barely above a breathy whisper only to realize that you've been standing there, looking out your window, for so long that you haven't even noticed that Negan has moved the truck inside, parked it and killed the engine a while ago and has been starring at you, watching your features change as you slowly came to realize that he, indeed, knows. - " **C** 'mon, darlin', let's get you inside, y'need to rest."

 

You silently let him carry you around, your body limp against his and your head hidden into his shoulder, trying your hardest not to think about all the eyes you can feel on the two of you as Negan walks through the compound, barking orders left and right and reprimanding whoever dares to look at you for too long as he walks by. You hate this, you hate having all this attention on you, you hate those people and the fact that they actually think they have any right to lay a judgment on you when they can't even think for themselves and constantly need to have someone holding their hand and telling them what to do. "Someone" being Negan.

 

Negan tightens his grip around you once you're both out of sight, silently letting you know that it's okay and you relax a little against him, nuzzling your head further into the crook of his neck, your hair tickling his face but he doesn't pay any mind to it as he carries you through his quarters and into his office, locking the door behind the two of you. The familiar smell of his apartment hits you and you sigh in what you can only identify as relief, somehow feeling safer than you've had in weeks, like this is where you belong and, perhaps, it just might be.

 

When Negan finally settles you back down on the floor, your legs wobble a little but you quickly find your balance and look around, your eyes shinny with tears, fatigue and the leftover of panic that's now slowly disappearing from your system; you're in his bedroom. You finally get this sense of familiarity back, the feeling of home but you know it has nothing to do with the place itself, it's him that makes you feel that way. He's familiar, he's what you always seem to be looking for wherever you end up at; he's home and it's such an intoxicating feeling.

 

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity before he turns his back to you and walks to the desk in the corner of his bedroom, sighing before reaching for something and turning back around to face you, his face hard but somewhat gentle at the same time, he almost looks- hurt? - " **N** -" you're about to ask him what's going on, about to tell him to please scream if he feels the need to, anything to clear the air before you suffocate but your words get caught in your throat and you almost choke on thin air when you spot what he's holding in his gloved hand.

 

Your eyes suddenly become too crowded with water and they're forced to let the excess of water out though you try really hard to push the salty liquid back to where it came from, your efforts are all in vain as your glossy eyes take in the blurry polaroids held in Negan's covered hand. You don't need a clear sight to know what's on those damn pictures, you're not stupid. - " **D** arlin', hey-" you hear his words but your mind doesn't quite register them, your numb body buzzing when Negan's scent assaults your nostrils, alarming you of his proximity.

 

" **Y** /n, baby, look at me." at that, a violent sob that you didn't mean to let out rips right through you, rocking your whole body along, " **O** h, baby girl, shhh." he coos, taking the risk to reach out for you and push you against his chest, not caring if physical contact isn't what you need right now, he can't stand to just sit there and watch you cry, watch fear eat you alive, without giving you comfort, he can't take it, " **S** hh, it's okay, honey, you're okay, I promise." he whispers the words against the top of your head, his nose buried in the fluffy mess that is your hair, taking in your scent, feeling the need to comfort himself as well.

 

He needs to reassure himself, he needs to be sure that you truly are right here, in his arms, safe. He fucking needs it and he can't explain it, not that he feels like he has to. - " **P** -Please- Negan- Negan, I-I can't-" you sob into his chest, not knowing where you're even going with this as you're unable to form any kind of coherent thought but he seems to understand, he always does after all.

 

" **S** 'alright, princess, I know. I know." with an odd softness, he plants a kiss in your hair before making his way down towards your face and softly bumping his nose against yours to get you to look up at him, your shiny eyes meeting his and you have to swallow a gasp down when you spot two lone tears making a daring escape from his eyes and running down his beard as if they're trying to hide away from the man himself.

 

The thought of Negan's body being scared of the soul living in it is something that makes a small, timid and tired laugh slip past your lips and you carefully bring your hands up to frame the tall man's face, your thumbs gently and still very carefully reaching down to catch the tears and wipe them away with a swift swipe. You let your fingers linger on his face, the sensitive and fragile skin covering your fingertips brushing on the oddly soft skin and then wondering towards his facial hair which has now fully grown back into the messy yet neatly trimmed beard it was when you've first met him.

 

The roughness of the salt and pepper hair almost burns your skin but you can't get enough of it. Even in the mental and physical pain that you're in; your cravings for him are as high as can be. The sensation, the gesture, soothes you and makes you feel safe. Being around Negan, being able to touch him just seems so damn right, like coming home. - " **N** egan, I- I'm-I'm sorry." you whisper, afraid that you'll break the moment if you speak too loudly, like you'll scare him away, like the sound of your voice will bring him back to his senses and that he'll pull away from you and run off.

 

You sure didn't expect a smile from him, not while you two are being so damn intimate in such a non-sexual way, not when you two are actually sharing a moment of pure tenderness, looking for reassurance in one another, the two of you silently begging the other for comfort, searching for the other in each other's eyes and finding yourselves right there and then, no, actually, you were more than ready to bet that he'll run off, push you away, tell you that he doesn't do chick flicks or just spit something sarcastic or narcissistic out at you to try and break the gentleness and intimacy of the moment but, really, who are you to complain or overthink when he's right there, welcoming your sweet gesture, bathing in it like he's been starved of affection and love for years- Hell, he probably has, just like you.

 

" **N** ah, you don't apologize to me, sweetheart." he shifts closer to you, your hands not moving on his face like you're still too scared that he'll actually realize that they're there now that he's regain his composure and he seems to understand your fear which brings a cocky smirk to his lips but he doesn't say anything, afraid that he'll scare you off and he can't stand the thought of your hands slipping away from his face, " **Y** ou didn't- You didn't do anythin' wrong, alright? I got out of line- for a fuckin' change..." you let out a shy giggle at his sarcasm, the sound enough to make him smile, " **S** hit went South but it ain't your fault and I- Fuck, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have been so damn hard on you, shouldn't have laid my hands on you like that- Fuck- I shouldn't have-"

 

" **I** t's okay." you speak, your voice clear, letting him know that you mean it. Your hands make their presence on his face known again as you put a little pressure on them to make sure that he's looking right at you and only you. You know that he's referring to what happened back into his R.V after he'd dragged you away from August and his group, about getting angry and spanking you but, truth be told, you didn't mind, not at all. No, you didn't welcome the hits, yes it physically hurt and emotionally distressed you and, yes, this time was different because it was pure anger and there was nothing erotic to you about it like there usually is whenever Negan decides to punish you but, though it's a fucked up way to think; you much rather have him snap at you once and get through that shit-storm rather than just have him sit there, burning holes into your skull with his deadly glares, not talking to you or being way too calm and forcefully soft spoken if he does.

 

So, no, you didn't mind him going off on you like that, you never do, you both needed it and, yes, you're aware of just how fucked up it is. - " **N** ah, s'not, sweetheart-" - " **N** egan, please, stop." you start, your voice barely above a whisper, almost like a plea, a plea for him to shut up, a plea for him not to take it back.

 

" **I** 've messed up too, alright? We both did and- And we both needed to clear the air, you know we did." he silently pushes his forehead against yours, the tip of his nose bumping yours, his eyes never leaving yours and it fascinates him that you, for once, don't break eye contact at all like you usually always do, " **I** went out of line, so did you, but don't take it so easy on me just because-" your eyes dart to the polaroids which Negan dropped to the floor the second you started to cry and your hands finally slip away from Negan's face and he forces himself to swallow a grunt of disapproval back down when they do, leaving him feeling cold and suddenly feeling like he's not close enough to you though you're still right here, your chests touching.

 

" **J** ust because- Because bad things ha-happened out there, okay?" you nervously break eye contact with him and let out a shy, nervous laugh to try and recover from the flash of pain that hit you like a damn train when you looked back at those damned pictures, " **D** -don't you be going all soft on me now. You're big bad Negan after all, right?"

 

You hear him laugh lowly at your words, flinching in surprise when you feel his giant hands cupping your tear soaked face to bring it back up and make you look at him again. The soft yet cocky in that natural "Negan" way smile on his lips pushes a shy one on your own and makes you giggle softly though it's cut short when Negan silently leans down, his nose pushing against yours as he lets his lips rest barely on yours, his warm breath the only thing you're able to focus on along with his scent.

 

That familiar, manly scent; the smell of whiskey, something sweet like honey contrasting with the rough smell of gunpowder and leather with a hint of what you can recognize as something cinnamon-ish mixing all together to become something that is purely and entirely Negan and you're hooked on it, if you could bottle that scent up and turn it into a perfume, you most certainly would and you bet your ass that you'd be wearing that damn thing every single day until your last breath, making sure it'd be the last damn thing you'd ever smell.

 

A soft mewl from you is all it takes for Negan to give up on the idea to take you in for a few more minutes, though he stays gentle as he finally pushes your lips together. The most pleasant buzz runs through you at the sensation of his lips being back on yours after what seems like years being too far away from each other. **This** , this right here, **is home**.

 

Between the fights, Randall dying, that stupid bet you two had going on, some more arguing and then you vanishing for almost a month, it's been way too fucking long since the two of you last enjoyed each other's company with no tension, anger or bitter feelings. Right now, it's just the two of you being your entirely true selves with no fear of judgement on Negan's part and no fear of getting badly hurt on yours, it just feels right, it's more than just a kiss. It all clicks into place when your hands sneak their way back onto Negan's face, your fingers running through his beard before coming up to rest on his cheeks and the simple, chaste touch seems to spur him on as his own hands quickly find their place on your body and it's so natural, it's like they belong here.

 

His left hand comes up to rest on your cheek, the palm of it resting on your jawline as his thumb rubs the sore spot below and around the fresh wound on your cheekbone, whilst the glove covered right one snakes behind your head to push you closer to him, deepening the kiss. Somehow, the kiss manages to stay somewhat chaste even as it turns into a full-on makeout session, a needy whine escapes you making your cheeks burn in embarrassment, feeding Negan's ego and much more so his libido.

 

A soft gasp makes its way out of your throat and gets swallowed down by Negan when his left hand slowly leaves your cheek and makes its way down your neck to come and rest on your throat, giving you a chance to pull away from him, to let him know that he might be crossing a line you don't want him to cross right now. After a few seconds, it's then his turn to let out a surprised noise, though his comes out as a growl rather than a gasp, when you willingly push your body impossibly closer to his, pushing your throat further into the palm of his leather covered hand, silently giving him the green light to do as he pleases, hoping he'll understand that you crave this contact just as much as he does.

 

It's like you both need this, you both need to prove that you trust and feel safe around one another, that your bond didn't break, that it's still right here despite everything, waiting for you two to make use of it and push each other to your limits. Limits that you both have all the time in the world to explore and test out, thing which, Negan is more than eager to start working on with you. But, mostly, you need to show him that what happened to you out there didn't deteriorate your trust in him. You need to prove **yourself** that it's okay, that you still trust this man with your entire being, body and mind and Negan seems to sense that.

 

" **Y** /n, it's okay, baby girl. It's okay." he mumbles against your lips after he managed to gather enough self-control to actually break your kiss but not quite enough to actually pull away from you. His words, though gentle and genuine, completely break your facade and you once again end up crying in his arms, your faces so close together that some of your tears actually wander off onto his face but he doesn't seem to mind.

 

" **I** feel- I feel gross, m'disgusting-" you whimper, eyes closed, against his lips though yours are now shaking, " **I** thought- I thought you'd b-be mad at me and-and that you'd l-leave me a-all alone if-if you- Oh, God, I feel s-so disgusting. He was- He was r-right there- I didn't- I didn't look!" you protest, part of you scared shitless at the idea of Negan thinking that you'd ever want to see another man naked, " **I** \- I'm sorry- M'so sorry-" and you keep repeating the same words over and over again like a damn broken record, unable to keep your mouth shut, feeling like you're about to suffocate as pure anxiety wraps itself around your throat and tries to choke you out.

 

Negan carefully watches and feels your throat throbbing against his gloved hand as you silently gasp to try and get air into your lungs and, just as carefully, he decides to try and calm you down in what might be the most fucked up way imaginable in this specific scenario; he completely takes his hand off of your neck to slip out of his glove and then carefully brings it up to your sternum, making you flinch in surprise but there's nothing indicating that you're not okay with him touching you when your eyes meet his again.

 

Keeping his eyes on you, he gently brings his hand up higher until it lands back on your throat and, immediately, your sobbing stops, your throat relax into the now bare palm of his hand and you gasp loudly as you're finally able to take a breath. He doesn't say a thing, just lets his thumb caress the skin of the column of your throat and brush against your jawline every now and then as you relax into his grip, your eyes closing and your hands make their way around his body as you wrap your arms around his much bigger frame, sneaking them into his opened leather jacket and letting them rest around his waist, your hands landing on his muscular back, his thin t-shirt clinging to his skin.

 

You let your head fall and rest against his chest and Negan brings his left hand around your back, resting right above your butt, before pushing your body impossibly closer to his, his right hand still resting on your throat, not squeezing in the slightest, just resting there like it belongs here. - " **N** ow, you're gonna listen to me and you're gonna listen t'me good, y/n." his voice is strict but somewhat soft and he doesn't wait for an answer as he keeps going, his hands never letting go of you, " **D** on't you ever let me catch you speak like that ever again, we clear?"

 

" **I** 'm s-" - " **G** irl, if the word sorry leaves your pretty lil' mouth again, I swear to fuckin' God, I'm gonna blow a fuse." at that, you let out a small laugh into his chest and you feel it vibrate against your head as he chuckles along, " **I** 'm serious, baby girl. You ain't got shit to be sorry for, y'hear me?" finally, he slightly pushes you away from him, though neither of his hands leave you, to be able to look at you and, yes, he immediately regrets it as it turns out he loves having you so close to him you two almost fucking merge with one another but, right now, he pushes that aside and focuses on your tired face.

 

" **W** hat happened? It ain't your fault." you let out a sob at that, one that neither of you had seen coming but, still, Negan is quick to react and he immediately pulls you back flush against his body, " **I** t's not, baby, and I'm gonna keep repeating it until there's no fuckin' doubt left in your mind, y'got that? I'll fucking annoy the shit out of you with this shit but I won't fuckin' stop 'til you look me in the eyes and tell me to shut my goddamn mouth about it 'cause you know it's not." he bends his head down to be able to kiss your temple and lets his lips linger there before bringing them right next to your ear, " **Y** ou ain't got shit to prove to me, darlin'." you let out another audible sob at his words but it's not a pained one, it's one of relief.

 

You're relieved that he saw through your behavior, that he's just that good with you, that he knows you **that** fucking well, " **Y** ou don't. I ain't goin' nowhere, baby girl. Ain't nowhere I gotta fuckin' be but right here, takin' care of my girl. You ain't gonna go through this shit alone, y/n." he pauses and you feel him smile against your skin, " **T** he only way I'm gonna leave you to deal with this shit on your own is if you kill me and we both know you wouldn't do that 'cause you totally have a fuckin' crush on me, kitten."

 

" **W** h-" you hesitate for a moment before carefully lifting your head up, letting your chin rest on his chest as you look up at him, " **W** hat if I do?" He growls at that, closing his eyes and shaking his head like he's trying like hell to hold himself back; he is.

 

" **F** uck," his right hand tightens around your throat but not enough to cut off your air supply, just enough to let you know that its there, and his left hand runs from your lower back up to the back of your head, slightly pulling you up to him, careful not to pull too much on your neck and he leans the rest of the way down to brush his lips against yours, " **I** want you so fuckin' bad, baby girl." you mewl and pull at his t-shirt, your hands clawing at his back underneath his jacket, " **M** issed ya so fucking much, kitten."

 

" **M** issed you too, daddy." you whisper, your eyes locked on his, and that's all it takes for Negan to finally close the distance between your mouths. He doesn't wait for you to catch up, he just pushes his tongue past your lips, taking control of the kiss and you struggle to keep up but neither of you cares, especially not him. He loves to see and feel you willingly give up control because he knows how fucking hard it is for you to do so. 

 

You're so used of having to be in control of everything that the fact that you're so damn willing and pliant with him makes him lose any ounce of self-control he has. Truth is; you two really do complete one another, you're opposite in so many ways yet so similar in your own rights. You need him to take control from you because he's the only person you trust to do so and you're the only person he's ever been comfortable enough with to entirely let himself go. Negan is a rough man in all the sense of the term, outside and inside the bedroom, it's nothing new to him but, no matter how many women he's had in the past, it never was like it is with you, not even close.

 

With you, he actually enjoys the hell out of it because it's not just about him being able to be as rough as he wants because you trust him **_that_** fucking much, no; it's because you're the first woman he fucking loves to watch fall apart right in front of him with no holding back whatsoever, he loves pulling those damn squeals and noises out of you, loves seeing the curiosity in your eyes whenever he touches you where you've never been touched before, he loves that you're entirely his and his only. To him, sex has always been about getting off, nothing less, nothing more.  You two never even had sex yet but he can't already tell it'll different with you- Hell, it already is. After all, you'll always be the girl that made him cum in his fucking pants like a horny teenager. He's never had you, yet he already can't get enough of you and he fucking loves it. Your dynamic works so damn well, it's so natural that it's almost scary but he's not complaining and neither are you.

 

You sigh contently into his mouth as his hands find their way beneath your thighs to lift you up, your legs naturally falling into place around his waist and your hands snaking out from under his jacket to come and rest on the back of his neck, your right hand tightly gripping the back of his head to push him even closer to you, making him growl. You both break away from one another at the same time, your lungs screaming for air, but you still stay impossibly close to each other and your eyes meet as you both heavily breathe against the other's parted and kiss-swollen lips.

 

" **Y** ou okay, baby?" the question is simple but you know there's genuine concern and that he's not just ask if you're okay right now but more so if you're okay in the main frame. - " **N** o." you whisper against his lips, trying your hardest not backtrack now that you've been honest about the way you feel for once instead of lying and smiling it off, " **B** ut I will be."

 

One of his hands leaves your thigh to cup your cheek, his thumb running across the scar the wound you've earned yourself when helping Lulu a few weeks ago left on the tender skin and you know that he's gonna ask you about all the new scars you're bearing and probably will get upset once he'll see just how bad it actually is if you take a peak beneath your clothes but, right now, his focus seems to be on you and you only.

 

" **Y** ou know-" you hesitate but the hand still beneath your thigh gives you a reassuring squeeze, " **I** really did miss you. I was just- I got scared and-" you close your eyes and press your cheek further into the palm of his hand, " **I** t's just s-so hard sometimes and- and I get s-scared and- I'm-I'm n-not used to all this and it's just so- so scary but I want you to know that-" you let out a shaky breath, " **I** 'm done running."

 

" **Y** eah," he whispers, his breath hitting your lips as he does, " **M** e too, baby girl." And, just like that, it all falls into place and you both relax against each other. No doubt; nothing beats the feeling of being **home**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread this shit 'cause I really wanted to post something and now I hate myself 'cause it means that I'm gonna have to find the strength to go back and read this shit over, realize just how bad it is and that I actually put this monster out there for people to read, correct every terrible mistakes I've left and made because I can focus more than a fraction of a freaking second, cry and then... well then I'll probably just go to bed or some'.
> 
> Here's a quick but fucking important reminder for you lil angel faces, just in case you need to hear (well, in that, read) this today;  
> *you do deserve to live.  
> *you do have a place on this Earth.  
> *yeah, planning a future is some new level scary type of shit but it's nothing you can't handle and nothing you should stress so much over because, really, most people think they have it all figured out and then, right in the middle of their adult lives, they realize that they want to change direction (nothing wrong with that btw).  
> *you deserve to eat whatever the fuck you like and/or feel like eating.  
> *your sexuality is perfectly valid and so is your identity.  
> *there's nothing wrong with you wearing whatever clothes you want to wear, male or female. you wearing short "revealing" clothes does not make you a "slut" just like you deciding that you're most comfortable when wearing layers over layers does not make you a "prude". Do you, do what you're most comfortable doing and don't be afraid to flip those stupid boys off if they get too comfortable and try to comment on your shit 'cause, guess what? It's not their fucking place to.  
> *I love you.  
> *you deserve good things.  
> *it's okay if you can't get out of bed today, take it day by day, sweetheart.  
> *there's nothing wrong with crying, as a matter of fact, we should all throw parties where we just sit there and cry and comfort each other. fuck yeah, let's all be emotionally vulnerable together.  
> *there's nothing wrong with being chubby (i fucking hate using the word "fat", that's why I never do, if you were wondering and, if you weren't... well then... you wanna fight?).  
> *there's nothing wrong with being skinny.  
> *there's nothing wrong with any body type AS LONG as you're healthy and aren't directing your whole life around it, that's not how things work, okay? you do you, your body will follow like its supposed to, don't worry about it.  
> *I'm proud of you.
> 
> and I'mma just finish by saying that I love every single one of you, no matter what. I can't work miracles (clearly, I mean, damn, I'm a literal human wreck.) but I'm here if you need to talk, that much I can promise you.
> 
> Alright, y'all stay safe out there, I love you and I hope you're having an amazing day/night. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to bed before I actually pass the fuck out on my keyboard.


	27. Whiskey and honey //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if some of you didn't get the lil' memo and wanna know where the hell i've been these past few months;  
> the end of 2017 and beginning of 2018 was a pure shit show for me. I was in serious psychological pain, I didn't want to leave my bed, I couldn't go a single day without crying and, whenever I would try and write, it ended in tears because I couldn't be happy with what I wrote so; I've stopped for a while. I took a break that was much needed, I needed to stop before I actually frustrated myself so much with writing that I would have ended up completely giving up on it, I actually thought about it but I realized that that's not what I wanted.
> 
> Truth is; I was in a really dark place and it'd been a long, long, time since I've last felt so damn bad, since I actually felt ill and my relapse is all on me, I take full responsibility for it.
> 
> Anyways! I'm back, feeling better(iiiiiiish) and I just want to say a big thank you to you guys. 
> 
> Seriously, thank you so much for your patience and your gentleness, it means the world to me, I don't deserve you, angels, but thank you so much for sticking around and pulling up with my shit.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO!! Excuse the lack of smut but, in all honesty, it just didn't sit right with me to put the OFC through any type of sexual intercourse when she still has so much to deal with BUT there will be a lil' time-jump in the next chapter which I'm gonna use to finally introduce smut to the story. And, please, excuse the length of this one, I know it's not that long after all the waiting you guys have been doing but I need to put something out there so... there. 
> 
> GOOD THING IS; the twenty-eighteenth chapter is halfway done SO it should be out by the end of next week... yay...?
> 
> BUT ANYWAYS! I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter.

**6:35 AM // SANCTUARY // NEGAN'S APARTMENT //**

Standing underneath the shower spray, you silently let the hot water hit your skin and watch with absent eyes as the clear liquid turns a deep red as it slips off your skin and goes down the drain between your bare feet.

You're crying but there's no loud, gut wrenching sobs, no, it's just an overwhelming amount of tears mingling with the water coming out of the spray above your head, your body shaking and the muscles in your belly clenching and un-clenching so violently it makes your entire upper body bend every time a sob should be coming out of you but doesn't.

That's not the first time this happens to you. Ever since August found you and brought you back with him to the Shore, you've been having really rough break-downs randomly throughout the day and awful night terrors that have you waking up in tears and a knotted stomach.

It's been two months now and, though the time you've spent with Jay and his group was surprisingly therapeutically and those people, especially Nasira, helped sooth your pain, it far from healed you.

You still haven't talked about it, you still haven't told that story because, every time you feel like you can't take it anymore and you need to let it out, your throat closes and tears appear. You can't talk about it and it feels like the trauma is about to tear you limb from limb.

Not being able to talk about it makes you feel like he won. He may be dead but he still won. He got relief, he's gone, you're not.

You've been left to deal with the things he's done to you replaying in your head every single night, making you jumpy in broad daylight, throwing you into violent panic attacks what feels like every two goddamn hour and he gets to rest.

The thought rips yet another silent sob out of you, your body reacting like you've been punched in the guts and you swear your knees are seconds away from giving out.

Your body aches under the warm water but the wounds covering it seem happy to be treated to a hot shower.

You grimace when you carefully scrub your skin with a soft sponge soaked with soap only to see the white foam turn red and you'd wonder if you'd re-open a wound without noticing if your mind could focus on something else but the deep crimson red that has now tainted the entire cabin.

You idly wonder whether that blood is yours, Taylor's or walkers', possibly a mix of all. You frown as you think of Taylor; you didn't know the guy all that well, you knew he was in his early twenties and that his family was gone but, other than that, you two never really hit it off.

It's not that he didn't appeal to you or that you two hit issues with one another, he actually always had a smile for you whenever you'd cross paths, it's just that you were spending most of your free time hanging out with August, Lulu, Neil and the rest of the little group of friends you've had made.

There's bloody hand prints of the glass door from when you've first entered the shower, one on the tiles covering the front wall of the cubicle, there's blood in the water pooling at your feet and even after it's gone down the drain, long stripes running from your feet to the drain remain on the white tub but what really gets you is how strong the smell of it is.

The small glass cabin reeks of copper, the smell so strong you can taste it and it tastes like you have a bunch of pennies melting in your mouth.

"[ **Y** /n], princess, you alright in there?" you hear Negan ask through the door of the bathroom and you can't help but bring your hands up to cover yourself when you hear his voice.

You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, your heartbeat getting out of control, your body shaking with fear and panic.

You can't help it, you're fucking terrified. His voice caught you off guards and the fact that you're standing completely bare, completely vulnerable, has your mind on high alert.

You clamp your lips shut together and silence a sob right on time before it could burst out of your chest as your mind slowly settles back down though every single muscle in your body is straining with the shot of adrenaline it's just received.

"[ **Y** /n]? Baby-" you hear the knob on the door turn but the lock keeps Negan from coming in, "[ **Y** /n], talk to me for fuck's sake."

Your eyes still screwed shut, you try to reason with yourself; he wouldn't hurt you, not like that, but all your mind can work with at the moment is that; he's a man, his voice is full of authority, he's taller than you, broader, and you're standing here, completely bare, completely open and vulnerable not to mention that you're on his turf right now, this isn't your home.

Taking a shaky breath, you force a small smile though Negan can't see it, hoping it'll hide the fear and sadness in your voice as you speak up, " **I** uh- Yeah, uh- Sorry. I'm a-alright. B-Be right out." you manage to choke out and you internally cringe knowing you've done a poor job hiding your current state and you know Negan probably heard right through it too.

" **A** lright, sweetheart." you heard a soft thud on the door and, when he speaks again, his voice is softer but it sounds a lot closer and you can tell that he's right against that door, probably frowning like he does when he's upset, " **I** 'm gonna check on things around the place, left ya some clothes on the bed, should be back in an hour or two but just- Promise me you'll radio me if you need anythin' at all, baby girl? Please?"

Pushing your teeth down harder on your lips, you silently nod before realizing that Negan can't see you so you push out a quiet but loud enough for him to hear, " **P** romise."

A few seconds tick by and you finally release a breath when you hear the door of Negan's bedroom click shut, letting you know that he's now out of earshot.

It seems like something in your mind jumps, like the wrong gears started to click with one another, and you turn into a sobbing mess, your nose running, your body shaking so much it's a miracle you're still standing on your feet and your movements become unnecessarily harsh.

You're not careful about the way you're washing yourself anymore, you're unconsciously putting unnecessary pressure on the sponge you're washing your body with, the roughness of your movements making your extremely sensitive skin burn, scratch marks appearing under the ongoing onslaught and you can't seem to stop.

You shampoo and rinse your hair with the same harshness, crying as you do, no amount of soap, shampoo and hot water able to make you feel clean.

You feel filthy no matter what you do, no matter the amount of pressure you put under each scrub, no matter the amount of shampoo and soap you use. You can't feel clean, there's something clinging to your skin and it doesn't want to let go of you. It's wrapped all around you, its grip on you tight and suffocating.

When you step out of the bathroom, you're clinging to the huge towel covering you and, though the white fluffy towel is big enough to completely cover you, you feel obscenely exposed standing there in Negan's bedroom and you find yourself on the verge of tears once again but push it all down, take a shaky breath, and walk towards Negan's bed where the clothes he told you he'd pull out for you are waiting.

Though you have a hard time prying your eyes away from the bedroom's door, fearing that someone might come bursting through though you know Negan's quarters are the safest place for you to be, you finally feel the invisible grip around your chest loosen and a small, teary smile appears on your lips when you see that Negan has brought you a new set of underwear but this one is nothing like the first one he's ever offered you. It's not white lace, it's not even what's considered to be "lingerie".

It's definitely more you though, something you'd actually have picked out for yourself. It's a simple grey cotton bra and a pair of grey boy shorts with the Batman symbol on the back and a small black bow on the hem at the front.

You quickly put the set on before throwing the pair of white sweats and the burgundy hoodie Negan left for you. You have to roll the legs of the sweatpants for them to actually fit around your ankles and the hoodie is also most definitely not your size but that is far from being a problem to you, especially when those clothes are so damn warm and comfortable and Negan's smell is all over them, giving you a sense of safety you find yourself needing and craving now more than ever.

Just as you're about to move on and get out of the room, something catches your interest in the very corner of your eye. Sitting right on top the rocking-chair in the corner of the bedroom next to the big wooden bookshelf is your backpack and the three other bags of supplies you'd brought with you when you've left the Shore, all seemingly untouched, but what really caught your attention was the plushy sitting on top of your backpack.

It's your plushy, the one you've been carrying around since you've been born, hell, if you didn't know any better, you'd say you were born with the damn thing sewed to your hand. You grab it with shaky hands and bring it up to nuzzle your face into, sighing into the soft stuffed animal before walking to the bed and dropping it on the side you always seem to sleep on.

It takes you a few second to actually step out of Negan's bedroom after you've spend a good two minutes peaking your head out the threshold leading out of the bedroom and out in his office, your teary eyes scanning the apartment as they best as they could.

When all you can hear are the flames of the fire in the chimney in the living room feeding on the thick logs of wood, you push the bedroom's door open further, letting it squeak at the small nudge, and you fully step out into the office area, suddenly feeling really small and alone in the quiet and quite big apartment.

You fidget with your fingers, your eyes unsure of where to settle until something shiny on top of Negan's desk catches your attention and you swear you feel your heart jump in your throat when you see the pictures of your unconscious self on the sick fuck's who took you attic floor laying right here, taunting you and making bile rise up in your throat. 

You knew Negan had them, he showed them to you after you got back barely an hour ago but part of you had forgotten about the damned things and ending up face to face with something you so badly want to forget is one hell of a slap to rub off.

You're so focused on the pictures, looking at them like they might jump you, you don't even realize that your entire body is shaking, anxiety and something darker, something you know you've only felt when Randall passed two months ago, completely engulfing you.

When you finally take a step, it's on wobbly, tired and shaky legs and it's something close to a miracle that you somehow don't end up on your ass as you make your way to Negan's desk with quick, clumsy steps, stopping dead right in front of the wooden piece of furniture like it might burn you if you make any contact with it.

You brings your right hand up and bring it towards the polaroids only to recoil it as if you've just been burned, the loop repeating for a minute straight, your mouth opening and closing, no words ever coming out of it, as you try and tell yourself that you can't hold those atrocities in your fingers, not even for a quick second, but, eventually, just like ripping a nasty band-aid off, you snatch the pictures off of the desk and look down at them though they're nothing but a blurry mess for your teary eyes.

You don't even realize that you've moved to the living room until your mind finally processes the warmth coming out of the fire in the chimney you're standing right in front of.

With a choked cry, you drop the pictures in the flames, letting them feed on the physical reminders of what happened to you two months ago, your hands shaking as you slip them into the messy hair on top of your head, your fingers closing around the locks to pull on them.

Your belly is shaking frantically as your muscles literally punch sobs out of you and you're fighting to get some air inside your lungs, your head dizzy from the lack of oxygen and your constant cries.

A few minutes go by, spent in silence as you watch the pictures burn, the toxic smell of burned plastic filling the space and the room falls completely silent as you fall back on one of the puffy armchairs sitting right in front of the chimney and coffee table.

You curl yourself up into a ball, your feet propped up on the seat of the chair, your head resting on top of your knees as you absently watch the fire burn in front of you, the flames consuming the polaroids shinning in your eyes as you watch, almost religiously.

Your lids are slowly getting heavier and heavier with fatigue, the steady movements of the fire and the soft sound of the wood popping as the flames feed on it mixed with the fact that you're completely emotionally and physically drained, you don't stand a chance.

You unconsciously shuffle around in your seat until you're leaning on your left side against the backrest, still curled up into a tight ball, your knees still plastered against your chest, and, soon enough, your head grows heavy, your left cheek squished against the backrest when you finally fall into a deep, well deserved sleep.

 

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 **9:15** **AM** **//**

With an irritated groan, Negan finally finishes his round of the entire compound, the whole thing taking longer than it should have because he's been so caught up with you, so worried about finding you and bringing you back, that he hasn't been able to keep his ship running as tightly as it usually would and he can't help but get scared at the idea of people thinking he's gone soft because of you so he gave them more hell than usual just as a casual reminder that he was still running things around the place.

Faith and Dwight both stopped him to ask him how you were doing, a question to which he honesty doesn't have an answer to so he simply told them " **H** ow the fuck should I know? Been back for four hours and I've barely got one with her 'cause I can't leave this fuckin' place to run on its own for more than three consecutive hours." before walking off, unable to hold off coming back to you any longer.

He can't stand the thought of you all alone, it's been eating away at him the second he's stepped out of his apartment.

Entering his quarters, he can almost feel his nerves melting off when he's greeted with silence and fresh air coming from the open windows, the smell of the rain about to pour in what he suspects to be a few minutes, an hour tops, filling the place.

He grows nervous when he opens the door to his apartment, a feeling so foreign to him that it makes him frown. He's afraid you might get spooked if he makes too much noise, he's unsure if he can speak to you or not, he's suddenly completely clueless as to how to behave around you, like your a scared little puppy he's just brought home.

With a defeated sigh, he steps inside and carefully closes the door behind him before turning his back to it and letting his eyes scan the quiet apartment.

"[ **Y** /n]?" he calls out, walking towards his desk to drop Lucille on the floor and let the bat lean against the left side of the wooden piece of furniture, " **B** aby, I'm-" he stops midway and frowns when the chemically smell of burned plastic filling the air finally gets to him, " **C** rap." he whispers when he realizes that he'd forgotten to put the pictures away this morning and left them on his desk for you to see.

A small, confused frown wrinkling his forehead when he sees them gone and he tries and put two and two together which leads him to conclude that, if the smell in the room is anything to go by, you must have burned those things.

With the same confused expression plastered on his features, he turns his back to the desk and steps away from the office area to step into the living room and, surely enough, he finds the fire in the chimney still going strong, a few puffs of jet black smoke coming out every now and then with a renewed smell of burned plastic, confirming his theory.

He can't lie, he's more than happy to have those things gone and destroyed but he can't help but feel guilty for not being there when you took that step. He should have been there, he promised he would.

With a sigh, he runs a hand through his dark hair and turns back around to go and look for you but stops when, the second his back is facing the chimney, he finds you right here, all curled up into a tiny ball in one of his armchairs and deeply asleep, the right side of your body facing him as the left one is resting against the backrest and he doesn't fail to notice how puffy your eyes are or the tear strains on your cheeks nor how red and irritated the skin right below your nostrils look, all dead giveaways that you've been crying during your time alone. He's never seen you like this before, ever.

You're so quiet and you've made yourself so small that he hasn't even noticed you there. Negan has always loved that about you; your ability to go around without making a sound, but he always hates it.

He hates it because it's a constant reminder of how much you fear being acknowledged, seen and/or heard, it's a constant reminder that you grew up being completely ignored and neglected and you'd get scold if not worse whenever you would try and speak up to the point that it became normal to you to only speak when, and only when, something gets to be too much.

He knows it also comes with your naturally extreme shyness, that it's also simply part of who you are but, in moments like these, he wonders if you're actually okay with being so damn quiet all the time that people sometimes even come to forget or don't even notice that you're in the room.

For a second, he's unsure if he's allowed to touch you even if it's simply to carry you to his bed so you get be more comfortable but he quickly snaps out of his with a scoff and ever so carefully slips his right arm beneath your knees and wraps his right one around your waist before lifting you up and letting your right side rest against his chest.

Gently, he secures your back with his right arm, keeping his hand on your waist, and he can't himself; he plants a kiss on your forehead the second the right side of your face makes contact with his chest.

Your left hand and both your feet are dangling in the air as Negan carefully carries you to his bedroom bridal style and he swears he feels his heart swell happily when you push your head further against his chest, your body going lax in his hold and he can't help but feel disgustingly sappy at the fact that he's able to make you relax like that.

" **Y** ou're back." you sleepily mumble into his chest where as he walks to the left side of his bed and he stops in his steps when your voice reaches him, afraid that you might be uncomfortable with him being so close to you, touching you, but you're not flinching, his touch doesn't even seem to disturb you.

" **Y** eah, baby, m'here." he coos, easily shifting his hold so he's now holding you with a single hand and arm so the one he's freed can push the blanket and comforter away.

He's gentle as he lays you on the mattress, frowning when he hears a knock on his apartment's door but he quickly brings his attention back to you when he sees you shifting around in the corner of his eyes, a brow shooting up when he finds you writhing on the mattress, tugging at your sweats.

" **O** ff, please." you whisper, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, your bottom lip out in a slight pout and it hurts for him to swallow because, damn, that always gets him.

" **O** h, y'want me to leave so you can-"

" **N** o!" you quickly cut him off, panic so evident in your eyes that he takes him aback a little, " **N** -No, please, I- D-don't leave me. Need you." your voice is so small and shaky and oh God you're crying.

" **F** uck- [Y/n], baby- Hey, shhh, it's okay. I ain't goin' anywhere, kitten." he tries and reassure you but he's having a hard time grasping what's happening to you, he's never seen you like this before.

He knows now's not the time for that because you're vulnerable, hurt and probably struggling to get a grasp on what's happening yourself but he can't help it. You've just told him that you needed him and he wasn't ready for that, he thought it would be but, clearly, he was wrong.

There's protectiveness filling his chest but there's almost this overwhelming need he always feels to protect you like a mother hen and those two little words only poured gasoline on that fire.

"[ **Y** /n]," he starts, his voice soft, as he crouches down to look at you face to face and he almost forgets what he was even going for when your shiny doe eyes meet his, "baby, you do know that you don't need to prove anythin' to me, right?"

The way you look at him is the same way a little girl would look at someone she's just seen kick her dog. He should know better but; you almost look offended by his words.

Your eyes are wide, your eyebrows furrowed and your forehead wrinkled in confusion and your head is slightly tilted to the left. He watches as silent tears come on pouring out of your eyes without you seeming to take notice.

You give him a silent nod, " **Y** -Yes. Y-yes, I-I know." your bottom lip trembles some more and your frown deepens as you drop your head down like you're being scolded, "I-I'm sorry." you whisper and Negan can only hope that he didn't just hear what he thinks he's heard, " **I** 'm- I j-just- I'm sorry I'm b-being so cl-clingy an-and-" you start to pull at the sweats covering your pants with shaky hands as Negan watches on, words completely escaping him, " **I** 'm sorry." you once again whisper, your voice shaky and cracked.

You keep pulling at your pants to try and get rid of them on your own but, in your panic, it's like you've forgotten how to take the damned things off.

You don't know why the hell you've just asked Negan to help you out of your sweats, you're nineteen years old, you know how to take fucking pants off. Yet, that's something that is proving really difficult at the moment and, yes, in case you're wondering; it is extremely fucking embarrassing.

What's so disturbing is how your mind seems to have associated Negan with comfort, safety and care. You know it can only spell bad news but; when he simply mentioned the possibility of him leaving the room, leaving you, even for a really short period of time? It fucking terrified you.

You know something's wrong, it doesn't particularly feel wrong but you know it's not normal for you to be so afraid of being without him even for a few seconds. Every single thing your mind was terrified of this morning when you've had your little episode in the shower; his gravelly voice filled with authority and his broad and tall frame are now things you find comfort in again.

Saying that Negan doesn't intimidate you would be a straight up lie but there's a difference between finding someone intimidating and fearing someone.

You know you probably should be afraid of him but you're not, never have been and probably never will be. There's something so powerful about his mere presence, something about the way he talks to you, something about the way he cares for you, you just can't stand the thought of him leaving you... This is bound to drive you insane.

" **H** ey-" Negan starts, frowning when he realizes that his voice doesn't seem to reach you in your blind panic as you keep on fighting with your sweats, "[ **Y** /n], baby- Hey, stop that." when your hands keep on pulling at the grey cotton of your sweatpants, he carefully reaches out and engulfs both of your wrists in one of his hands and cup your tear-soaked left cheek with his free one when the sudden restrain makes you jump and flinch.

Your eyes stay glued to the hand incapacitating yours for a few seconds, your body slowly relaxing when your mind processes that Negan's grip isn't angry nor threatening. He's not trying to make you vulnerable, he's simply trying to calm you down, " **I** t's okay, angel. You're safe- [Y/n], you with me, baby girl?" he asks with a concerned frown when you keep your head down, looking at your covered legs instead of him.

With a soft sniffle, you finally look up to meet his eyes and he greets you with a gentle crooked smile and a wink to which you let a small giggle out at and give him a small, genuine but tired smile before shaking your head and nervously bite down on your lower lip, unsure of what to say so; you don't say anything, instead, you silently show him.

It'll always fuck him up how the two of you seem to be able to read the other like a damn book, how easily you can communicate without a single word needed. He loves it because that belongs to you and  **just you**. That's your thing, your bond, something only the two of you can have, no one else can get so damn close to you nor to him.

Sure, men, and women, can still look their fill, they can still try and imagine what it's like to have you, they can fantasize and get off of the thought of you and, sure, just thinking about it makes Negan's blood boil but, at the end of the day; you're his and that's not up for debate in his mind. No one will ever get as close to you as he got and you both know that, just like you both know no one ever got nor ever will get to have this side of Negan but you.

It seems easier for you to cry, point at things or frown a certain way than it is for you to actually come up with words to express yourself. You're not much of a talker, that much is pretty damn obvious, so Negan quickly started to pick up on the small details he now knows to be your ways to communicate whenever you get too overwhelmed to speak up. He can tell if you're angry, upset, scared or even hungry just with a simple look though he knows that he's barely scratched the surface and he still has a long way to go before he'll be able to even crack the book that you are open.

He's even asked Laihla, since she used to be therapist, one specialized in traumas and disorders none the less, if your behavior rang any bells for her and she went on about a bunch of physiological mumbo-jumbo which he barely understood the half of and came out with; selective mutism.

Selective mutism is something a lot of young kids suffer from after a considerably big trauma and either grow into or grow out of if it's properly handled -which, in most cases, it isn't- or something that can be caused by extreme anxiety mixed with an already extremely timid nature, in your case; it's both. Adults suffering with selective mutism are most likely people who have been stuck with the disorder since their kid years or their teens.

Simply put; selective mutism is a mental disorder that makes the person suffering with it lose the ability to speak under high stress, stressful situations/contexts and/or environments but it can also be a case of simply waking up and it being one of those days, although the people suffering from it are perfectly able to speak and form perfectly proper sentences, it's simply the brain acting up and making speech difficult when not impossible.

If you want an even more simpler way to describe it; it's a pain in the ass of a disorder and, since it's so misunderstood and poorly handled, people suffering from it are often made out to be cold assholes when, really, they're just fucking terrified and the harsh judgments they get only push them further down into completely silence. Feeding the beast and all that jazz.

" **I** gotcha, pretty girl." Negan coos, making sure he's balanced on his feet since he's still crouched down next to the bed, before hesitantly letting go of your hands and letting his other one slip from your left cheek, his skin burning in displease, " **H** ey, if it gets too much, if I do some shit you're not okay with, you let me know, alright, darlin'?" he says, carefully scanning your face but, if you're scared, you don't let it show, you simply nod in acknowledgement and, usually, he would have teased you about using your "big girl's words" but, right now, he actually **needs** the words, he needs to know for sure that your mind actually has processed and understood his words, " **B** aby, c'mon, talk to me."

" **P** romise." is all you manage and it's barely above a whisper but he hears it loud and clear and, if that's all he's gonna get, he'll take it.

With a whispered " **A** lright." Negan carefully reaches for the waistband of your sweats, your entire body jumping when his hands dip between the elastic band and the bare skin of your hips and he immediately freezes, "You still with me, baby?" he asks and watches as you look down at his hands tugged away in the waist of your borrowed pair of sweatpants and is surprised when you give him a small smile and nod for him to keep going.

It's odd, really, but, the feeling of his knuckles are resting against your skin, slightly digging into the soft flesh of your lower belly puts you at ease. It's warm, it's familiar, something you've come to love and crave, it's Negan and not some stranger slash freak slash pig hybrid with ill attentions. It's someone you can trust, someone you **do** trust, probably more than it is healthy to but, that's a problem for another day... week... month... you'll bring it up eventually... maybe... probably not though.

All in all, it takes two full minutes for Negan to get your sweats down to your freaking knees but, you can't lie, you're glad he's taking the extra caution. He's also extremely cautious not to touch you too much, you trusting him like that is already something, might not be something anyone would consider huge but it is to him because **it's you**  and for you to trust him so blindly isn't something he thought he could ever get, let alone ask for.

" **H** ow're we doin', [y/n]?" he checks in and you give him a small smile and a nod before slightly wiggling your legs, silently asking him to free them from their prison made out of soft cotton and he chuckles at your antics. He grins when you echo him with a giggle.

Another three minutes and the jogs are finally off, your legs bared for Negan to see and for you to feel insecure about. Your skin is covered in bruises, some darker than others, there's a few scraps from last night lingering on your knees, the skin raw, bruised and still tainted with blood despite your shower, but the worst parts have to be the self-inflicted cuts carved into the inside of your thighs and the huge scar wrapped around each of your ankles, a clear reminder of the restrains that kept you fought against for two days in a row.

It's been two months, the marks are not longer swollen, bruised and bloody, instead, they've turned into a scar that wraps the whole way around your ankles joint, leaving a permanent physical reminder of your struggle but, mostly, of the situation you've found yourself in. The cuts in your thighs though? They're still swollen, the skin a soft pink-ish color that contrasts with the pigment of your skin color, some older than others. The oldest ones are from a three weeks ago, the newest barely two days, hence why they're still sporting scabs.

You silently watch as Negan's eyes roam all over the length of each leg, his frown deepening and softening to deepen again every now and again but he stays silent and you let him look his fill. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he tries and get a grasp on the whole situation, you don't blame him, you yourself haven't even been able to do so as of now and, hell, you were front fucking row for this shit.

When he looks back up at you, he notices you looking down at your legs, something he hates to see shinning clearly in your eyes; guilt and- Good fucking God is that disgust he sees?

" **H** ey, [y/n], baby, listen to me." his voice is soft and warm, your eyes find his and you audibly swallow the lump in your throat, you can feel your bottom lip and chin shaking as you try your hardest not to break down, " **Y** ou're safe, angel, I promise. That sick sonuvabitch can't hurt you anymore, [y/n]. I won't let anything happen to you."

" **P** romise?" you ask in a whisper, almost like you're afraid to even ask because part of you knows that this is a promise he can't keep but you also need him to make it just for the sake of hearing it. You need it and you need it from him.

" **I** promise, [y/n]. But I'm gonna need you to trust me and just let me take of the rest, baby girl. Y'think you can manage that?" he asks, his voice soft but firm and you feel your head bob as you absently nod, your eyes locked on his still.

He doesn't press the issue of the state your lower body is in, he knows better than to ask about all those scars, you're too vulnerable right now and he can't risk stepping on broken pieces. He knows you'll come around eventually, either because you'd have decided it's time to rip the band-aid off or because you can't take it anymore and the weight of it all ends up crushing you entirely, it doesn't really matter; you'll come around, he knows that. He just hopes you'll do so before it all turns around to bite you in the ass and hurts you even more.

He knows it's hard for you to give yourself over to pain, he knows it's hard for you to talk about things that are hurting you because it means letting yourself be vulnerable and it doesn't take a genius to see that that's something you're clearly extremely afraid of.

He actually believes that it's harder for you to accept being upset and hurt than it is for him to and that says a whole fucking lot.

" **G** ood girl." he gives you a smile, carefully coming to sit on the bed, facing you, his left leg up on the mattress next to your right one and the other firmly planted on the carpet below the bed, before softly taking your right hand in one of his and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss on your bruised knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours, " **M** 'proud of ya, baby."

You barely press your hand down on his fingers, giving his hand a squeeze and give him a small smile, your eyes glued to his lips resting on your busted knuckles, " **I** 've missed you." you admit with a whisper though saying the words out loud isn't as scary as you'd thought it'd be.

Negan grins at that before leaning away from your hand, straightening up a little but not making himself too tall because he knows his broad frame tends to intimate the hell out of you, " **S** 'probably 'cause I'm a fuckin' joy to be around." he says with a smirk and chuckles when your shoulders shake with a silent laugh, your head shaking left and right in false disapproval.

" **Y** eah," you start with a smile that always brings him to his knees, "that must be it."

You both look at one another for a long moment, it feels like hours but only a few seconds have passed, and you stay facing each other in complete silence, only the muffled sound of the birds happily chirping outside can be heard. Unsure of what to say or do, Negan starts to work on a way to break the silence, though it's not an uncomfortable one, he honestly just wants to hear you talk some more, but his thought process is completely destroyed and burned to ashes when you lean towards him, bracing your hands on each of his thighs to balance your upper body, and press a soft, shy kiss to his lips, pulling back so quickly that he barely has time to register what just happened.

It takes him a minute by his eyes refocus and find you right in front of him, your forehead pressed to his and your nose nudging his own, your lips a hairbreadth away from one another's, "[ **Y** /n], baby-"

" **M** 'not scared." you whisper against his parted lips and has to close his eyes not to lose his cool at your closeness, " **N** -Not of you. Never of you."

And, with that, the dam breaks. His movements are quick and swift but stay careful not to scare you or make you feel trapped as he brings his right hand up and behind your neck, his thumb rubbing the base of your skull in a soothing manner, and his left one comes to rest on your right cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone and he uses the hand he has resting on the back of your head to pull you closer and bring you back in for a kiss, the two of you letting a happy sigh out the moment your lips find each other again.

You both smile into it, amused by your synchronized reaction but also happy to finally get this feeling back after months of separation and complete stress on your end, you don't know how Negan lived through it but you do know that **you** , for once, didn't particularly enjoy it.

The kisses stay chaste and innocent, no tongue, teeth nor biting and Negan's hands don't roam around like they usually would. Yes, it is kind of odd because it's so different to what you're used to coming from him but you really appreciate that he's doing his best to reassure you that everything's okay. You really need that and it means the world coming from him because you know that this is really different for him.

After planting one last kiss on his lips, you pull away and leave a peak on his cheek, feeling him smile through his beard. You slap your hand on your mouth just in time to let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yawn that came straight from the heart and you feel your cheeks burn when you hear Negan chuckling in front of you.

" **A** lright, little one, get comfortable." he says, nodding at the mattress, silently telling you to lie down and you do. He watches as you shuffle around and settle on your right side, facing the side of the bed he's still sitting on, and you whimper happily at the silkiness you're engulfed in, " **T** here ya go." 

Bringing the blanket back up to cover you, he bends down and plants a quick kiss to your left temple, the right side of your face squished into your pillow, and carefully tugs you in underneath the warm blanket of his bed, smirking when you curl up on the mattress, nuzzle your head further into the pillow and that when he sees it; the white lamb plushy you've always made a mission of keeping secret but he's seen it the night Simon and his men "found" you and thought it was adorable, hell, he even found you holding it impossibly tight in your sleep when he'd come to check on you some nights.

The memory of you telling him about it the very first day you two had spend together in a moment of sheer panic after he'd told you about his deceased wife makes him chuckle lowly, his head shaking lightly as he remembers just how flustered you were about the whole situation. He's not too sure why but, the fact that you're letting yourself have that even though he's around is something that makes his chest swell with both pride and giddiness.

When he left it out for you this morning, he knew it'll be a fifty-fifty; you either wouldn't care and simply take it, or you'll be so embarrassed that you'd melt into a puddle on the bedroom floor. He's not stupid though, he knows you most definitely would have freaked out if it wasn't on the count of you being so damn tired, you'll probably wake up red as a pepper from your power nap but, for now, he's just gonna enjoy the fact that you're giving yourself a goddamn break. He's already planned on having a chat with you about all this when the time will be right.

" **G** et some rest, darlin'-"

" **S** -Stay? Please?" you ask, your voice small and filled with sleep, your doe eyes looking right at him.

" **F** 'course, kitten. I'll stay if you want." and, with that, he gets rid of his boots, his socks, his jacket and his belt but keeps his pants and shirt on and then proceeds to walk over to the two windows in the room to close the shutters, putting the bedroom in slight darkness, sunshine still slipping through a few cracks here and there.

Just as he's about to make his way to the bed, there's a knock on his apartment's door and he stops in his steps, huffing and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and he swears he could have screamed when two other knocks followed his silence.

With a defeated growl, Negan makes his way around to your side of the bed, " **B** e right there, baby girl." he whispers to you, absently running a hand through the fluffy mess of hair on top of your head before quietly leaving the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him and you have to force yourself to relax when you hear him leaving his bedroom, you know he's not far but him not being in the room with you seems to be enough to make you feel distressed... Oh, aren't you in some shit...

His stance immediately changes the instant the door of his bedroom clicks shut. He's not relaxed anymore, he's on edge, he's pissed but he also seems to naturally fall back into his "big bad wolf" nature. He's back to being what comes most naturally to him and that man and the man that was in the bedroom with you just seconds prior to that are two extremely different sides of the same person but the same person none the less.

Another knock on his office's door and he crosses the room with long strides, ready to give a mouth-full to whoever the fuck keeps on knocking on that goddamn door, his jaw clenched and his muscles taut. Once he gets there, he swings the door open, letting it slam and bounce off the wall behind it, " **W** hat?!", he snaps, Simon looking at him with wide eyes though he doesn't seem all that faced by Negan's anger.

" **J** ust wanted t'check in on the lil' one." he simply states, " **H** ow's she doin'?"

" **S** he's tired and so am I." he sighs, realizing now just how loud the sound of the door slamming against the damn wall must have been, guilt creeping down on him, " **W** e were about to get some goddamn rest before you started knockin' on that goddamn door."

" **Y** eah, sorry 'bout that, I just thought you might be busy and that you wouldn't hear me so- Yeah." Simon claps his hands together, " **A** nyways, supply run at Hilltop still on today? Y'could stay here with her, lemme handle it, y'know I will, no problem at all."

" **I** 'll let you know." is all Negan says before giving his man a looking silently asking if this conversation is done or not and Simon simply nods and walks off.

You jump a little when you hear the door of the bedroom open again, your eyes squinting at the light coming from his apartment and invading the room. Unsure if you're supposed to ask what the hell all that noise was about or not, you just settle on silently waiting for Negan. Eventually, the door closes back up, putting the bedroom back into light darkness, and, a few seconds go by before you feel the bed dip with his weight behind you.

The second you feel his body heat, you scramble to turn around and face him, quickly shimmying on the mattress to curl yourself up against his chest and he happily indulges in the sudden embrace, his arms wrapping around you to keep you close and he smiles when he feels your plushy squished against his upper belly and your chest.

" **E** verything alright?" you ask in a whisper, still struggling to find your voice it seems.

" **Y** eah, baby, everything's good, don't worry about a damn thing." he says, absently rubbing his right hand up and down your back, never going too low, " **M** 'tired as shit, though." he smiles when he hears you giggle into his chest.

" **M** m, m'too." you mumble sleepily, making him chuckle.

" **G** et some rest, sweetheart, I ain't goin' anywhere." he coos before planting a kiss on your temple, letting his lips rest against your skin as he speaks, " **Y** ou're safe, baby girl. Don't worry about a goddamn thing, you just get some rest."

And, with that, sleep consumes you again, your head and eyelids heavy with it and your body goes limp against Negan's as, for the first time in a while, you don't fight against your fatigue because you know you're safe. You're home.

 

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 **FLASHBACK** **//** **FOURTEEN y/o OFC** **//** **FIVE MONTHS BEFORE OUTBREAK** **//**

" **S** he's gone- She's actually gone, Dee." you tell Daryl in a whisper for what might as well be the hundredth time that night, the words coming out of your mouth like a broken record, the youngest Dixon's heart breaking a little more each time.

" **Y** eah, I know. M'sorry, sweetheart." is what he replies with every single time.

The air of the night is freezing, the sky filled with stars and your attention is all theirs as you sit on top of the Dixons' house, a bottle of whiskey going back and forth between you and Daryl though he takes small sips when you take large swings.

You'll be turning fifteen in five months and you can't help but wonder what fucked up present the universe has in stock for you, you're already dreading it.

Your mother died on your thirteenth birthday and, two months later, you were told that you'll never be able to conceive a child. Your fourteenth wasn't any better as it was spent in an abandoned apartment with a drug dealer and ended with Merle rushing you to the hospital after you almost overdosed. Ever since, you promised -well, you didn't really have a choice in the matter- both the Dixon brothers as well as Luna as you'd get clean and, so far, it still stands.

But, of course, something had to be added to the pain the withdraws have caused you for the first two months.

Now, you're on your third, three months clean, only for you to receive a call this very morning from the hospital telling you that Luna, the woman you consider like a mother, is about ready to die.

You can feel tears rolling down your face, the cold air hitting your damp skin stings, you're completely silent expect from the soft sniffling your running nose is making you do, your arms wrapped around your shaking frame as you try your damnedest to make it all go away but it's a whole lot for your mind to process and it's clearly overwhelming you.

Your hands are shaking and your fingers are clinging to Merle's leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Three months clean is good, it's amazing, really, but your body doesn't seem to be so willing to let go of the chemicals you used to give it and it's letting you know loud and clear.

You've stopped throwing up after the first month and a half and stopped breaking into cold sweats just two weeks ago but the shaking is still there as well as the random shots of adrenaline your brain is sending you to try and distract your body from its overwhelming need for a fill of happy pills.

" **Y** ou know-" your voice makes Daryl's head snap up towards you, his frown deepening when he spots your tear-soaked face, clear as day under the full moon's light and the sad, teary smile you give him isn't helping the knot in his stomach, " **I** really thought-" you push a sad laugh out, shaking your head before shrugging, " **I** t's stupid, really, but- I really believed she- that she was gonna alright, you know?"

" **S** 'not stupid, sweetheart. You had faith, you can't-"

" **F** aith?" the breathy laugh you let out is anything but happy, it's filled with bitterness, " **I** didn't have faith, Daryl." you narrow your eyes at the night sky, " **I** was desperate. I've forced myself to believe Luna would be alright because I was too chicken to even think about how alone I'd be without her. I'm not stupid, I knew she-" you let out a shaky breath and bite down on your lip before looking back at Daryl who's eyes are already on you, " **I** knew and- I dunno. I think I thought I was ready for it, y-you know? Like she was? But I- Truth is, I kept telling myself that being "ready for it" would mean giving up on the idea that she could get through it when... When, r-really, I was just too afraid to acknowledge the fact that I knew that damn thing was going to kill her and- God, Daryl-" a sob rips through you and you curl in on yourself, pushing your legs against your chest and hiding your face in your knees, " **S** he was dying and I-I was scared and-and- God, I'm pathetic. She was fighting while I was hanging out w-with drug dealers, g-getting high and drinking myself to c-complete numbness- And f-for what?" you raise your head back up and your heart breaks all over again when you spot tears straining Daryl's cheeks as he looks at you, completely silent, " **B** ecause I was afraid a-and the idea of losing her made me sick to my stomach- And now she's gone. Daryl, she-she's gone."

The hunter gives you a silent nod before reaching for you and wrap an arm around your shoulders to bring you to him. You don't protest, simply let him settle you between his legs, your legs wrapped around his waist, his other arm coming up to wrap itself around your shaking frame as his free hand pushes your head against his chest and he starts to softly shush you as you break into a sobbing mess in his embrace, your tears soaking his shirt and your hands clinging to the material covering his back as if he's the only thing you have to keep you above water.

" **W** hy does it a-always have to hurt so-so bad, Daryl? Why's it always so d-damn complicated? What did I do? Why's there always something b-bad happening? God, Daryl, wh-what did I do?" at this point, your brain has lost all of its filters and just lets you vent into your friend's chest, " **E** -Everything's just so- so fucked. It fucking hurts, so bad."

" **I** know, [y/n]. Sweetheart, I know." he coos against the top of your head as he gently rocks you left and right, his grip on you tightening when he feels just how much you're shaking.

" **S** 'all b-because I got m-my dad killed, isn't it? S'all my fault and n-now I'm paying for it-" you let out an hiccuped sob when one of Daryl's rough hands suddenly lands beneath your chin and cups your jaw to make you look up at him, his eyes teary but firm.

" **W** hat happened to your father was not your fuckin' fault, [y/n]. Don't you fuckin' talk like that, we've already talked about this."

" **I** shouldn't have called him-" you continue, Daryl's words getting lost in the shit storm happening in your head.

" **Y** ou were a little girl going through a panic attack at school and you needed to be taken care of. Your dad getting into an accident is just that; a fuckin' accident. [Y/n]," he carefully wipes a tear away from your face with his thumb but it's all in vain as two other come rushing out of your eye seconds after, "sweetheart, what happened isn't fair but it wasn't your fuckin' fault."

" **H** e was looking at me, Daryl." you whisper, your voice shaky and raw from all the crying you've been doing, " **H** e was trying to calm me down, he- he kept- he kept telling me that he loved me, that he-he wasn't going anywhere and- His eyes weren't on the road because they were on me, Daryl."

At that, the hunter presses you further into his chest before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, " **S** weetheart, you know how much love and respect I had for your old man but- How's him not looking at the damn road your fault?" you're about to speak but Daryl senses it and tightens his arms around your body before you get to, " **Y** ou got out of there alive. You weren't drivin', y'hear me? You weren't the one behind the wheel of your dad's car and you sure as shit weren't behind that fuckin' trucker's either."

" **I** miss him, Daryl."

" **I** know ya do, sweetheart."

" **I** just- I just w-want it to stop. I- I need it to stop, Daryl. Pl-please, make it stop hurting, I can't- I can't take any more, it hurts so bad." the youngest Dixon's grip on you tightens as he pushes you impossibly closer to him as if he's trying to squeeze all the dark thoughts right out of you, your words hitting him right in the heart, " **I** don't wanna be here a-anymore, Daryl. I wanna go- I want it to stop... Please, I wanna leave."

" **Y** ou ain't goin' anywhere you ain't supposed to anytime soon, [y/n]." he swears he can feel a hand squeeze his heart when you let a sob out at his words and choke out a " _ **p** lease_" into his chest, your small hands clinging even harder to the back of his t-shirt, " **S** weetheart, you know I'll do anythin' for ya but I ain't lettin' you go. You're gonna be okay, me and Merle? We'll always be there for ya and we ain't never gonna let ya hurt yourself, not ever again." he hushes you when you press your body further against his, " **I** love you so damn much, sweetheart."

" **I** love you too, Daryl." you're quick to repay the sentiment and your heart clenches when you hear Daryl let out a soft sob, his body moving with it, " **Y** ou're my man." you whisper, trying to soothe him and coax him into saying his line.

" **A** nd you're my girl, always." he whispers right back, your body and mind relaxing at the words.

You remember the day this little back and forth between the two of you first started, it just came so naturally the first time. You were three at the time, Daryl was holding you, trying to calm you down after you saw a girl flirting with him and, though you were too young to fully understand that she actually was flirting, the mere sight of her twirling her hair and batting her lashes at him upset you, more than you could have ever predicted.

Daryl quickly picked up on it and cut his conversation with the cashier short to tend to you and, the second he got close enough to you, you'd wrapped your arms around his thighs, your head resting right below his hips and you'd tightened your grip on him, afraid he was going to leave you for the other girl.

You remember hearing your father and his laughing in the background as they watched from the outside of the small shop of the gas station. Daryl almost did as well but then he felt your tears soaking through his shirt and he was quick to pick you up and wrap you in his arms, trying his best to understand what you were so upset about and, when you begged for him not to leave you, he hushed you, brought you out of the small grocery store and sat down on a nearby bench with you on his lap, away from your fathers and his older brother.

Carefully, he brought your face up and felt his heart jump in his chest when he was met by your tear-soaked face. His thumbs absently wiped your tears away as he calmly explained to you that he would never, ever, leave you, especially not for another "broad" as he put it.

The conversation ended with him rocking you back and forth in his arms, his lips resting against your right temple as he whispered, " **M** 'your man, sweetheart. And you're my girl, always."

Ever since, those lines became your thing, like a promise to one another, your bond, something you use to remind the other that they'll never be left alone, a way for you two to say "I love you" when the words get stuck in your throat, a way to reassure one another whenever things get to be too much and God knows you both badly needed -and still do to this day- this kind of reassurance, that kind of love.

" **A** lways." he softly repeats though you're now out cold in his arms, your face stained with dried and fresh tears, the skin beneath your nose red from the constant sniffling and shinning from all the running your nose's been doing.

Carefully, Daryl cradles you in his arms and, after making sure you're secure in his hold, he gently gets up and carries the two of you to the trap door in the roof. He pays close attention as he climbs down the ladder leading back inside, in his room more specifically, and lets out a relieved sigh when his foot finally touches the wooden floor of his bedroom and he managed not to drop you on his way down.

Before he can't take another step, Merle's head pops up from behind the open door of the room and a simple nod is enough for the two men to fall into place. Just like that, the oldest brother makes his way to the ladder leading up to the roof, his younger sibling scoffing when he goes to fetch the bottle of Jack that's been left stranded on the roof before climbing back down the ladder and closing the wooden hatch.

" **W** hat?" Merle asks, clear confusion written on his face at his little brother's face.

" **N** othin'." Daryl simply shrugs with a small smile before looking down at you, still deeply asleep in his arms, " **Y** 'think she'd want me to bring her to her room or...?" the archer asks with a frown, unsure of where to go, what to do.

Ever since that night Merle found you and rushed you to the hospital, ever since the boys got a glimpse of just how bad things truly were for you, you've drastically distanced yourself from them. You've been sleeping in your room instead of Daryl's like you've been doing since you were two, you've stopped your Fridays movie night, something you and the two Dixons have been doing ever since you were as tall as three apples. You've just stopped hanging out with them, you stick to your room, barely coming out of it and, whenever you do, it's to rush to the kitchen for fresh water or to take suppressants to help with the withdraws symptoms you've been going through.

What really got to Daryl though is that you've stopped sneaking into his bed at night like you've been doing ever since the very first time you came to sleep over in the Dixons' house.

You were two when it happened for the first time and Daryl nearly fell out of his bed when he woke up to find you curled up into a tiny little ball against his chest, your left cheek squished into the spare pillow he slept with, you're sleepy face the first thing he was greeted by.

He smiles as he remembers the sounds of your tiny bare feet slapping against the wooden floor of the house as you ran to the kitchen, the lamb plushy in your hands almost as big as you, your pacifier stuck between you lips. He remembers rushing over to you when he saw your nose running and your eyes shinning with tears as they finally locked on him and you instantly dropped your plushy and extended your arms out, your hands grasping at air as you tried to reach for Daryl.

" **T** omorrow's Friday, baby brother." Merle says with a small smirk, his tone making his brother shift and his eyes narrow in caution, " **F** irst thing in the mornin', we're goin' to the store, get some grub and then we're all gon' sit our asses on your bed and we'll watch a goddamn movie like we've been doin' every single fuckin' Fridays since she was as big as a fuckin' bean."

Daryl knows first hand that his big brother isn't exactly good with words but he knows damn well that he's worried sick about you, that he loves you more than anything and that this is Merle's way to try and make you happy even if it's with something that seems so damn small and normal.

Again, the two brothers silently watch one another and share a small nod, " **L** ook man, I don't know how to fix her, Daryl. I ain't gon' pretend like I do but- Fuck me if I ain't gonna try and make her forget the shit in her head even if it's just for one goddamn night. Poor thing deserves a fuckin' break and I'm done lettin' her let her mind decide what's good for her anymore 'cause it ain't no good. She in a bad place and she ain't gettin' out unless we smoke her out of it."

Your head rolls against Daryl's chest, drawing the two men's eyes to you, " **W** e gotta keep an eye on her, man." the youngest Dixon says, his voice barely above a whisper and Merle frowns when he easily picks up on the worry coating his baby brother's voice.

" **S** omethin' you ain't tellin' me?" the oldest of the two asks, trying his hardest not to think about what might have caused his little brother so much pain. Thoughts of you relapsing making his heart race.

" **N** ah." Daryl lies, not knowing how he's supposed to bring up the fact that you were begging for him to "let you go" not two minutes ago, " **J** ust- Y'know, m'worried. She loved Luna."

" **S** he'll be alright." Merle says, his voice rougher than it usually is, a dead giveaway that he's actually scared, " **I** 'm gonna hit the sack, y'need anythin'?"

" **N** ah, I'm good. Night, Merle."

" **N** ight, baby brother. Y'holler at me if anythin' comes up." Merle adds, his eyes on your sleeping form, before heading out of his brother's room and closing the door behind him.

After a brief minute of debating whether of not he should walk you to your room and let you sleep in your own bed, Daryl decided to risk getting punched in the morning and share his bed with you again for the first time in months.

Carefully, he pulls you out of his brother's big leather jacket, throwing it on a nearby chair, and he realizes just how exhausted you truly must have been when he strips you off your boots, socks and jeans and you sleep through the whole process, not even once stirring in your sleep.

Knowing you trust him to do so, he also takes your bra off but he does it through the thin fabric of your shirt, never once touching your skin, like he always does, never wanting to cross boundaries and lines he's not supposed to, especially when you trust me so blindly.

With a tired sigh, he gets rid of his clothes, putting a clean pair of boxers and grey sweats on before climbing in bed with you, covering the two of you with thick blankets.

His heart jumps in his chest when he turns to face you and you almost immediately move on the mattress to nuzzle into his chest, curling up into him and letting your head rest inside his shoulder, taking the position you always take when the two of share a bed, " **G** oodnight, sweetheart." he whispers to you, kissing the crown of your head before pushing you further against him.

" **M** 'your girl." you sleepily mumble, one of your legs moving to snake between his like it always does, craving his body warmth and his proximity, the smell of him enough to let you know you're safe and his heartbeat keeping you from truly emerging out of your sleep.

" **A** nd I'm your man." he responds, his voice vibrating in his chest below your head.

" **S** 'gonna be alright, Dee. B-Both of us and-" your eyes flutter heavily as your brain begs you to go the fuck back to sleep, "and Merle too."

" **Y** eah. Yeah, sweetheart, we are. All three of us."

" **P** romise you-you won't leave me." you whisper, your voice scratchy and dripping with sleep, your eyelids closed as you slowly but surely drift back into a deep, heavy sleep.

" **I** promise, [y/n]. No matter what happens, I ain't leavin' you, not ever. Hell, I'll get to ya even if the fuckin' world's fallin' apart around us, sweetheart." he plants a soft kiss on your forehead and brings you even closer to him, laughing when he feels your right leg sandwiched between his, " **Y** ou'll always be my girl."

The two of you yawn in sync and it makes Daryl smile while you completely pass out against him, your body melting into his as sleep washes your worries away for the time being.

 

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 **6:40** **AM** **//** **THE SHORE** **//**

The silence in August's living room is suffocating, for the first time since the outbreak, The Shore's leader can't find the words to make the situation somewhat better. They've lost Taylor tonight, the kid had insisted to tag along, saying he needed to feel useful for once, and ended up losing his life to the baseball-bat at the young age of twenty-one.

Yet, when counting their lost, you're at the top of the list. The fight you've put up against Negan's men, the way you've so quickly interfered to keep the situation to get any worse is all August can think about and, judging by the look on his companions' faces, he's guessing he's not the only one.

" **W** hat would she do that?" Lulu asks in a whisper though her voice is sharp, one of her hands nervously running through her buzzed hair, " **W** e could've fought those assholes together, we could've-"

" **N** o, Lulu," August interrupts her, his eyes finally leaving his boots to look up at his friends, "we couldn't have. You weren't there- The look in her eyes when this dude came out of that damned R.V?" the leader of the community frowns at the memory, " **S** he knew things we're gonna get ugly and she threw herself straight into the fire just to spare us the burn. The look on her face when he looked at her- Fuck." dropping his head down again, August pushes his dreads out of his face with a shaky hand.  
" **T** his Negan dude? He the leader of the group of pricks she got trapped in?" Lulu cautiously asks, trying to get a grasp on what happened.

" **Y** eah." Nasira suddenly speaks up, " **B** unch of creeps." the green eyes fighter spits out, anger cursing through her veins, " **A** nd we just sat there and let 'em take her." she adds, pointedly looking at August as she does.

" **E** xcuse me? Y'got somethin' you wanna tell me?" August asks with a snarl, " **Y** 'really think I don't already feel like complete and utter shit about how this whole thing went down!?"

" **I** don't know. Do you?!" the nurse snaps back, standing from her sit at the same time as the leader of the group does, the two staring each other down from a distance.

" **D** on't you fucking dare-"

" **Y** ou've heard her as clear as I did, Jay! She almost begged that creep to bash her if it meant that we'd all get to go back home safely!"

" **N** asira, relax-" Lulu tries but her words get lost in the heat radiating in the room.

" **H** er tears didn't keep him from killin' Taylor though, did they? She was completely covered in the poor kid's blood when that shit was all said and done! That's the kind of psycho you left her all alone with!" Nasira finishes, strands of her light brown hair falling from her loose bun and moving around her face with every movement she makes.

" **D** on't you put that shit on me." August's voice is low, dangerous, as he shots daggers with his eyes at the woman in front of him, " **I** care about her, God dammit! Don't you think it tore my fucking heart to watch that piece of shit drag her away!? She kept tellin' me everything was gonna be okay but the look in her eyes couldn't fucking lie to me, she was fucking terrified and I feel that shit so deep in my guts that it fucking hurts!"

" **W** hat the hell're we gonna tell Daryl?" Connel asks right before Nasira gets to speak again.

The question weights heavy in the room and, all of the sudden, Nasira and August fall completely silent and are right back into their respective sits.

" **I** -I don't know." August admits, letting out a shaky breath and wiping a few strayed tears, the hostility in the room melting away, " **I** don't fucking know, man." he whispers, rubbing his temples.

 

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 **10:30** **AM** **//**

You're fast asleep on top of Negan, his right hand is playing with your hair and his left one is resting on your lower back, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he takes you in.

You look so damn peaceful, there's no holding back, no tension, your body is entirely limp on top of his, your head heavily resting on top of his chest, your right ear pressed against his heart and the though of you being lulled to sleep by his heartbeat is fucking cheesy but he loves the idea of it.

You look so damn calm, he wouldn't be able to tell you were crying your heart out and shaking like a leaf only thirteen minutes ago.

You're straddling him, his legs between yours as they rest outside of each of his thighs, keeping him your more than willing captive beneath you. Your breathing is so even, he can feel your belly slowly heaving up and down against his stomach, if he wasn't so intend on taking his sweet ass time appreciating just how calm you look in that moment, the safe feeling radiating off of you surely would have put him right back to sleep.

" **S** hh, princess, s'okay. You're okay, m'right here." he hushes, gently rubbing your back and bringing his right hand down on your face to cup the cheek that isn't crushed against his chest and rub his thumb across it in a soothing manner when your body tenses on top of his and small whines escape your parted lips, a small frown creasing your forehead, " **I** t's okay, baby girl. You're safe, promise."

He's never done this type of stuff before. He's never been one for all that romantic, gentle crap but, with you, it just seems to naturally happen.

His body just reacts to you so strongly that it, more often than not, scares the living shit out of him because, really, getting a hard-on is one thing; feeling like he can't fully function whenever you're not around is an entirely different one.  
It was fun in the beginning when he first laid his eyes on you and decided that you'll become the girl he'd think of whenever he needed to get off but, damn, if it didn't quickly get out of his control to become something he never thought could ever actually happen to him.

He can't lie, the first thing about you that attracted him like a moth to a damn flame was your physic but it turned into something next fucking level when he knelled in front of you to take you in and saw the fire burning in your eyes even though you looked so damn frail and vulnerable that night and then-

Damn, then, the next morning, the way you looked at him? The way you spoke to him and told him that you could easily kill him with your bare teeth if you wanted to? The way you didn't allow him to push you around though you were clearly terrified and upset? That did the job.

Hell, the very moment he opened the door to the Hilltop's infirmary and laid eyes back on you that morning; he knew he was in deep shit because the mere sight of you made his head spin, his dick hard and his heart flutter in a way it never truly did before. He remembers how hard it was for him to leave you for the night and how impatient and irritated he was, morning not coming fast enough for his liking.

He remembers how crappy the sex he had that night was and how he quickly gave up on the idea of actually getting off so he got whoever he was with that night off, he honest to God couldn't remember who the fuck it was if you asked him, to then lock himself up in his bathroom and it felt like he was losing his fucking mind when the thought of you didn't even fade in the slightest after it made him cum all over the damn shower wall like he was some pre-teen with no self-control whatsoever.

He went to bed thinking of you, feeling like a dumbass and his jaw clenched in frustration because he couldn't explain what the hell got into him to save his fucking life.

Being tender like he is being right now isn't something he's ever known himself to be capable of. This is all very new to him just like it is to you but, right now, you're sleeping and he's the one in deep shit and thoughts.

The words you've said to him this very morning suddenly come running back through his mind; " **It's just so hard sometimes (...) I get scared (...) I'm not used to all this (...) it's just so scary (...) I'm done runnin** g." and, though his mind was quick to push the words " _ **Me too, baby girl**_." out of his mouth, he only now realizes just how much he actually meant those words and just how much power and meaning said words truly hold.

" **W** hat the hell are you doin' to me, darlin'?" he whispers with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving you, " **M** y pretty baby." he coos against the top of your head, his face nuzzled into your fuzzy hair, before bending a little to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead and leaning back to rest his head on a pillow.

Looking down, he slightly frowns in contemplation as his eyes land on the stray plushy you've abandoned on your side of the bed in favor of climbing on top of him in your sleep. Negan knows damn well that, though you try you're damnedest not to let it show, the things you've been put through kept you from growing up "normally", and it doesn't take a genius to see it.

He actually spoke to Laihla about it, knowing the woman used to be specialized in psychological traumas, and she explained to him that it might be a huge possibility that you may be suffering from Interrupted Psychological Developement which is something that occurs when a child is exposed to an extremely violent environment and is forced out of his childhood because the brain needs to mature quickly in order to help the child live, or survive more like, through the situation.  
It's a way of protecting the kid's mind but it can also have huge impacts and consequences later on, which is what I.P.D is and it often leads to difficulties growing up.

Your mom being abusive, people trying to take advantage of you, the constant bullying at school, growing up with no marks whatsoever, the alcohol and drug abuse you've went through at such a young age too, all of that combined? It's no wonder your brain is clinging to whatever innocence you have left; **it needs it to survive**.

He can't lie, though he feels kind of guilty about it, Negan finds your innocence to be a huge turn on but now he's also relieved to know what's what.

Ever since he spoke to Laihla about it and she took the time to explain some things to him, he feels like he can make life a little bit more comfortable for you now and he most definitely can -and will- help you get comfortable with the way your brain works both because he wants you to be happy and healthy but also because, though he knows it's fucked up and he most definitely will go to hell for it, he loves the idea of getting to have you when you're in such a vulnerable state, no holding back, and he sure as shit loves the idea of being able to spoil the hell out of you.

He remembers the first time he came back from a run with a bag of sweets and gave them to you, hoping to cheer you up a little; what he wasn't expecting was a little excited squeal you let out, followed immediately after by a crimson red blush burning your cheeks, when he handed them to you.

You'd probably tear his head clean off if you knew but; ever since that day, he made it his mission to always bring you something back from his runs just to get to see you see like that again.

The way you thanked him, your cheeks burning up with embarrassment at your sudden outburst of excitement, before giving him a shy kiss on the cheek and running off with your bag of sweets -which he suspects you ate all in one go-; he needed that again, he still does.

He stays there for a few seconds, watching you, taking you in as you mumble something into your plushy and he can't believe that you're the same girl he's seen tear walkers apart with her bare hands but he also knows damn well that you're real fucking good whenever it comes to hiding your vulnerability. Or your feelings in general, really.

Maybe that's what he loves so damn much about this whole thing; the fact that he's the only one who knows about it, the only one who gets to see the real you. The you who can't stand being yelled at because it scares her and makes her cry, the you who'd feed on nothing but candy if you'd let her and, hell, looking at it now, he realizes that he doesn't really know all that much about his girl and he frowns at the thought.

God, he wants to take care of you, so much so that he almost reaches out to wake you up but his brain yells at him to get the fuck away from you because God knows you deserve to rest. With a sigh, he tightens his grip around you, a quiet " **M** ine." leaving his lips before he's falling right back to sleep, your steady breathing the best lullaby there is.

 

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 **12:00** **PM** **//**

You feel like shit or maybe shit feels like you, you don't fucking know what's what anymore, all you know is that; your everything hurts and you wish someone would just knock you out with a chair.

Your whole body is sore and aching, your head is throbbing and you feel like crying into your pillow until you end up suffocating in your own tears.

_that's one way to go._

When your eyes finally fully adjust to the sun light in room, everything comes running back to you. Your heart skips a beat when you realize that what happened last night wasn't a dream.

Your eyes wander around as you stay laying there until your body shot straight up when realize that you're holding your plushy... You're cuddling with your freaking plushy... in Negan's bed...

_oh no, fuck no._

Your brain suddenly awakens and you now clearly remember finding it laid out for you this morning when you came out of your shower and... Oh, Chewbaka, you most definitely remember cuddling with it when Negan was in the room...

You actually let Negan see you like this... With your plushy... The one you never pull out unless you're a hundred percent sure you're all alone because you're too scared of being made fun of for holding on to.

Goddamn it, you're the girl who's capable of tearing the drooling freaks roaming around out there with your freaking bare hands, not some fragile little thing needing saving and who's incapable of handling her own goddamn self.

You're not stupid, you know you shouldn't be attracted to plushies and unicorns anymore, that you shouldn't suck your thumb as a way to calm down when you can't sleep or that you shouldn't feel the constant need for validation and reassurance but it's not like your brain actually gives a fuck about what you want.

You can't help but blush at the thought of Negan finding your plushy and actually leaving it there for you to see, he made sure it was in your sight and something tells you that he might actually understand how safe this thing makes you feel. Sure, now that you're rested and your brain is actually functioning properly; it's embarrassing as all hell and you wish for imminent death BUT the attention is almost enough to make you forget about it.

The heat in your cheeks all but flames up when you remember, clear as day, the time you told Negan about it. Sure, it was in a messy, word-vomit moment but, oh boy, do you remember it.

You also remember telling him about Luna AND about the fact that you've never had your first kiss in the same damn sentence -enhanced the definition of "word-vomit" ladies and gentlemen- and then somehow proceeded to end up beneath him on an old couch in an abandoned house, his lips kissing the air out of your lungs.

STILL! Telling him about it in a blur of a panicky rambling and him actually seeing it, touching it and-

ANYWAYS! The point is; it's not the same thing. Him touching it, handing it to you, it makes this whole thing a little too real and seriously embarrassing to even think about.

Pushing your embarrassment aside and settling for finding comfort in the fact that he's not in the room with you at the moment, you force yourself out of the comfortable bed and let out a noise between a squeal and a groan as you stretch out, sitting on the edge of the bed, your bare tiptoes making contact with the fuzzy carpet covering the floor beneath the bed.

You absently bring your hands up to your face to rub your eyes awake, groaning when you feel the stitches on the wound carved in the hollow of your cheek being pulled when you do.

" **F** reaking- Stupid- Ugh!" you grumpily mumble to yourself before sighing loudly and pushing your body up on to your feet.

You immediately regret getting up when you feel your head spinning and the need to puke overwhelms you and makes you run for the hills -well, actually, for the bathroom-.

In the span of a few seconds, you've knelled down in front of the toilet, opened the lid and shoved your face in the porcelain curve to let the little you have in your stomach drop into it, your throat burning and your eyes watering as your gag reflex fights against the uncomfortable feeling of something coming up instead of going down.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you flush the content of your stomach down the toilet with the other and crawl away from it before dragging yourself back up and on to your feet, a shiver running through you when you come face to face with your reflection in the mirror above the sink right in front of you.

_well, if you're gonna feel like shit, might as well look the part too, uh?_

Sighing, you let your eyes wander across your face, squinting your eyes as you closely inspect every single bruise, cut and wound you come across before settling on the stitched up cut nestled between your cheekbone and your jawbone.

Absently, you bring a shaky hand up to your face and let the very tip of your fingers graze against the rough stitches, wincing when you feel the still extremely tender skin throb under your feather-like touch.

" **G** uess we're not taking these off anytime soon, uh?" you state more than you ask to yourself, your eyes squinting when you spot a small amount of blood dripping through the stitches still.

The cut healed pretty well but still isn't fully closed though it's now been a few weeks since you got injuried saving Lulu on that supply run.

After a few seconds spent starring blankly into the mirror in front of you, you grimace when the taste of your vomit suddenly attacks your taste-buds and you slightly gag at it.

" **O** h God- Ew, Jesus- S'disgusting." you mumble to yourself before running in the bedroom to fetch your toothbrush out of your backpack.

Running back into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, you reach over to grab the toothpaste sitting neatly put away inside a black matte pot along with Negan's toothbrush. You sigh in delight the second you spit the white foam out of your mouth and into the sink below you before grabbing Negan's mouthwash to finish the job off.

With a happy sigh, you wipe your mouth with a towel hanging on the wall next to the counter after you've washed away the last bit of the chemical minty product with some water, " **A** lright-" you sigh out, " **G** od, I need a shower- Then, maybe, we'll go looking around for Negan... Maybe." you say to yourself as you open the glass door of the shower and lean over to twist the warm water's knob.

You make quick work of your clothes, grunting in discomfort as you force your muscles awake, your body throbbing, reminding you just how tired and sore it all is. Your movements come to a stop when you're down to your underwear, your eyes immediately landing of your bare forearms, legs and your belly.

The skin there is swollen, tender, throbbing and a bright-ish red. The self-inflicted cuts lingering there, a painful reminder of just how bad things have gotten for you, how hard it's getting for you to carry all this weight on your more than sore and tired shoulders.

Your breath hitches and gets stuck in your throat every now and then as you inspect the cuts covering the left side of your belly, the inside of your thighs and both of your forearms in almost they're entirety. Your vision is blurred by hot tears which you decide not to acknowledge, feeling too tired to do so, and you simply let them run freely down your face.

You audibly swallow a ball of nerves down when your teary eyes land on the marks left on your wrists and you know you have the same on your ankles, it's like a constant reminder of what happened to you a few weeks prior to that. You can almost feel the weight of the metal cuffs engulfing your wrists and ankles just by looking at the damages you pulling on the restrains has done and the marks the metal biting into your fragile skin has left on your body.

You're used to scars, you're covered in them, that life will do that for ya but... Those are different, they feel filthy, heavy, like those cuffs are still wrapped around your joints. They feel wrong and gross.

Trying your hardest to push your body to function again, you successfully, though clumsily, take your underwear off, letting both your boy-shorts and bra fall on the cold marble tiles covering the bathroom floor, before stepping in the shower on shaky and unsteady legs.

The moment the warm water coming out of the shower head hit you, you feel your entire body give in, relax and shake as a sob comes rocking right through you and you simply let it happen, closing your eyes under the spray, enjoying the warmth reigning in the quite large glass cubicle and finding relief in each sob you let out, each tear you let loose.

You feel so goddamn stupid. You've already showered today, it was barely five hours ago, yet you still unclean. You know it's in your head, you know that filth clinging to your skin is only in your mind but you can't look past it, it's all you can think about, it's all you can feel. You feel gross and scrubbing away at your skin makes it a little better, at least for a little while.

Those last few months have been hell for you; you need rest, badly.

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The second you've came out of the shower, you got hit with that overwhelming need to have Negan near and his absence suddenly freaked you out and made your eyes teary. When the initial embarrassment of waking up cuddling with your plushy in his bed faded, you suddenly felt distressed about not being around him. God, you don't know what the hell is happening to you.

So, now, here you are. You can feel your guts twisting and getting all tangled up as you absently walk around Negan's quarters, your mind bracing itself for the moment you'll hear those obnoxious high-pitched and stereotypical girly giggles or get hit the strong chemical smell of cheap perfume mingling with the one of nail polish all belonging to the women sharing this huge part of the Sanctuary with Negan.

But, none of those things seem to be lingering in the halls of this part of the compound as of right now. Which is odd because, even when they're somewhere else, most likely sun-bathing while other people take care of things for them, -note the bitterness-, there's always that strong, atrocious smell they seem to leave everywhere they go.

You're not one to complain about its absence though. As you reach the "breaking room" -more like a freaking living room, really- the women share, you let out an heavy but relieved sigh when you see the room is completely empty and oh-so-quiet. Completely giggles and odors free.

You feel fresh air hitting your still slightly damp skin after the shower you just got out of and relish in it when it hits your face and the freshly shaved sides of your head.

The longer hair on top of your head are still slightly wet, the dampness making them curl, some strands messily sticking to your forehead, and a few droplets of water fall on your bare neck before slipping down between your shoulder blades and running along your back which is covered by the old crimson red hoodie Negan left for you to wear this morning. After you got out of your second shower of the morning, you've slipped right back into the clothes Negan had left after your first shower because you find yourself craving the lingering smell of him on the soft fabric. It makes you feel safe and God knows you need that.

Negan actually left you a pair of jeans to wear for the day but you've decided to stick to his pair of grey sweats, a pair of socks and his hoodie because, really, let's be honest here; pants, especially tight ones, are the worst... well, close second.  **Th** e worst things are bras, they're evil and there's no debate to be had. Which is why you also discarded those today, your body already feels uncomfortable enough as it is, no need to make it worse with a devil's trap for boobs... a boob's trap... double boob's trap.

Absently, you walk towards the huge open window right behind a way-too-neat looking brown leather couch in the middle of the room and you can't help but take a deep breath when the fresh air coming from outside hits your skin.

Without you even realizing it, you end up leaning on the left border of the window, your left arm wrapping itself around your front to get a hold of your right elbow and your eyes close, letting you relax, enjoy the fresh air and the warmth the sun is providing today.

You can hear people talking and moving around below you, you hear the grunts of the walkers they keep to guard the place and their chains clicking on the concrete, the sound of a few cars' doors closing and opening every now and the distinct smell of cigarettes reaches you as well as the usual smell of rotten flesh that seem to have become a casualty for you; something you're so used to you don't even pick up on it all that much anymore.

" **H** iya, pumpkin!" Simon's voice makes you jump a little and your eyes flutter open to let you look down below, searching for him and, when your eyes finally find him, he greets you with a smile and a wave.

" **H** i, Simon." you smile at him, he looks small from where you stand and the thought makes you laugh because the men around this place; Dwight, Negan, Randall, Connor and him included always seem to be way taller than you. It feels good to be the taller one for once, even if it's just perspective and all, it's still a win in your book.

" **H** ow you feelin', sweetheart?" he asks, bringing one of his hands up to shield his eyes from the sun and squinting them to get a good look at you.

" **I** 'm fine, thank you. How 'bout you?"

" **D** on't you worry that pretty lil' head o' yours about me lil' ol' me, pumpkin, I'm all good. Hey, look, I'm sorry 'bout last night-"

" **D** on't be." you cut him off, sighing at the memory and, as if on cue, you feel the bruise Negan's man left on your cheek throb as the words leave your mouth, " **I** kinda missed you to be honest."

" **K** inda? I'm offended." he says with an over-dramatic gesture, bringing his free hand to his chest to cling at his t-shirt above his heart.

Though you can't really see it from where you stand, Simon smiles when he hears you giggle, " **S** 'good to have you back, kiddo. This place is sad as shit without ya around, fuckin' boring too, I mean- Who the fuck am I supposed to annoy the shit out of if you ain't there, pumpkin?"

That makes your giggles turn into a full-on laughter, Simon laughing along with you, " **Y** ou're the worst." you say through your laughter, shaking your head in false disapproval.

" **A** w, c'mon, you know you love me, [y/n]."

" **Y** eah, though love, I guess."

" **N** ah, our love's as smooth as a baby's butt, kid." again, the words send you into a fit of laughter and Simon feels his cheeks hurting from the grin he has plastered on his face, " **I** 'm serious though, s'real fuckin' good to have ya back, pumpkin, missed the hell outta you. Had me fuckin' worried too for fuck's sake."

" **S** 'good to be back, Simon." you say with a smile, small but genuine none the less.

_is it? 'cause it feels kinda weird... no? just me?_

" **I** 'll catch you later, kiddo?"

" **S** ure."

" **A** lright, you take it easy, now, alright? I-" his head snaps to the side, his eyes squinting at whoever he's watching, " **O** h for fuck's- Are you really that fuckin' stupid? Seriously? What the hell! Fuck's sake, I can't leave you assholes alone for two fuckin' minutes!" he barks at who you assume to be the men he's been put in charge of and you can't help but smile, finding him somewhat funny even when he's pissed, " **O** h my fuckin' God! I'm seriously starting to suspect you fuckin' morons have a collective of one fuckin' brain cell! Are you fuckin' kidding me-"

" **U** h, Simon, I'm gonna go now, alright?" you say, making his head snap back up to you.

You can hear him sigh even from where you stand above him, " **Y** eah, sorry 'bout that pumpkin. Catch ya on the flip side, yeah?"

" **Y** ou got it, Simon."

" **A** lright, good-" his attention snaps back to his men, " **O** h my fucking God! Stop touching that damn thing, Rob!" he barks as he walks off and out of your sight to tend to whatever the hell is happening down there and you giggle as you push yourself off the window with a smile on your face.

It's odd when you think about it, and especially considering how you two met, but, Simon quickly became someone you ended up having a lot of respect for and he gives as good as he gets. Which is definitely on the list of things that earned him your respect and trust.

Even after he'd dragged you out there that night and you punched him square in the jaw, things just fell into place between the two of you, something clicked, and you wouldn't be able to say what it was if someone asked you but, lucky you; no one is ever going to.

You personally believe it's because you both had respect for one another from the get go, no matter how tense your first greetings had been, he still came to you and set the record straight after you first came to the Sanctuary.

He could have held a grudge and, honestly, you would have done the same because, just like him, you give as good as you get. The fact that he's decided to address the situation and made it clear that he didn't want you two to dance on the wrong foot is something that definitely made you appreciate the man despite your harsh introduction to one another.

Laughing when you hear Simon yelling outside, you decide that closing the window might be a good idea and, when you do and then proceed to turn back around to look around the room, you feel your stomach drop but in an oddly good way.

You hate it but you can't help it; as you take in the calmness surrounding you, the sun illuminating the room, the absence of awfully annoying and irritating giggles and the lack of chemical odors in the big room, your brain pushes pictures of what a normal life here with Negan could be like.

Just the two of you, living together in this part of the compound. You wonder if he'd let you decorate the place, if he'd want you to feel at home here.

" **D** amn it." you bitterly whisper, irritated with yourself for letting your mind even go there, " **I** need a drink." you sigh out when you spot the bar sitting in the corner of the room and you quickly made your way to it, digging around until you find a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid calling to you.

" **S** 'just a drink." you whisper, eyeing the alcohol in the bottle in your hand before settling it on the hard wood of the counter and you reach in the glass and wooden cabinet sitting behind the bar to fetch a glass out and gently sit it next to the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

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 **FLASHBACK** **//** **FOURTEEN y/o OFC** **//** **FOUR MONTHS BEFORE OUTBREAK** **//**

You let out a quiet giggle as Daryl snaps a picture of his passed out brother laying on the couch, snoring, his arms thrown around like a rag-doll's and his pants down to his ankles.

" **O** h yeah, definitely goin' on the wall of shame." Daryl exclaims as he shakes the polaroid picture between his fingers, smiling before proudly showing it to you.

" **W** hat a delicate little flower." you joke and the hunter chuckle before pinning the picture on the wall behind the t.v where a bunch of pictures of both he and his older brother in their most glorious moments are already covering the wallpaper.

There's also two of you in the mess of second-hand embarrassment that this wall has become over the years.

One is a picture of your two years old self with ice cream all over her face and a bright smile on her lips as she looks straight into the camera, clearly proud of the mess she's just made. And the other is a picture Daryl took on your fifth birthday but what makes it such a piece of art is the fact that you're looking completely unimpressed whilst wearing an ugly yellow party hat and you're looking into the camera like you're just about ready to make anyone who'd dare speak to you choke on your birthday cake.

" **W** hat a tiny little ball of anger you were." Daryl chuckles as he looks at said picture and you scoff, making him look at you with that crooked little smirk of his.

" **Y** ou do remember that, when you took this picture, your brother was pigging out on any food he could grab 'cause he was high and both our dads were butchering Led Zeppelin in the background? Because I do, clear as day." Daryl laughs at the memory, his shoulders shaking as he does and you can't help but join in before giving his left shoulder a soft shove and nodding towards his still snoozing brother, " **W** hy on Earth does he have his pants down?"

" **P** robably felt like takin' a leak and forget about it halfway through on his way to the bathroom." Daryl nonchalantly states, having seen his brother in this state one too many times to be shocked about it anymore.

" **W** ell, that's an image I'll never get rid of... One more to add to the seemingly never ending list."

" **Y** ou love us, sweetheart." he teases with a smirk plastered on his lips.

" **I** mean, someone has to, y'know?"

You don't even get to blink before your feet leave the ground and you're being thrown over Daryl's shoulder like a bag of potatoes and you squeal in surprise before giggling. He chuckles along and walks the two of you to his room.

After kicking the door of his bedroom shut with his foot, he drops you on his bed, your body bouncing on impact, sending you into another fit of laughter and, just as you start to settle down, Daryl lets his body fall right next to you on the mattress, making the two of you bounce all over the place and he relishes in your giggles and the way you curl up on yourself to try and soothe the aching in your ribs.

After a good minute, you both calm down and catch your breath in silence, the two of you wearing a bright smile as you look at the ceiling about your heads.

" **H** ey," you start as you roll onto your side to look at him as he turns his head to the side to look back at you, "you know I didn't mean it, right?"

Daryl frowns for a second, confused as to what you're talking about until he finally realizes that you're referring to the joke you've made about someone having to love him and his brother, " **H** ey, sweetheart, don't sweat it. Hell, I've actually had already forgot about it."

You let out a small laugh before crawling up on the bed to properly lay on it, your head now resting on Daryl's pillow as you lay on his side of the bed, " **C** uddle with me?" you ask, your voice quiet like it always is whenever you ask for affection before you're also scared to do so.

" **F** 'course, sweetheart." with that, he crawls up to join you up on the mattress and you yelp when he rolls you over beneath him so that he can slip behind you and claim back his side of the bed, " **T** here ya go, s'better."

You try and turn back around to face him but he keeps you from doing so when he drapes his left arm over your hip and slips his right one beneath your head, letting you use the crook of his elbow as a pillow.

You both silently sink into one another, Daryl nuzzling his nose into your hair and leaving a small kiss on your head every now and again as you bring your right hand up to grab his left one and intertwine your fingers, leaving your left arm and hand to rest on the mattress.

You close your eyes when you feel Daryl's calloused thumb rub circles on the back of your hand as yours draw random patterns in the palm of his.

You didn't attend Luna's funerals last month and, though she, herself, has told you that she was perfectly fine with you not going on multiple occasions, that she mostly just had the "damn funerals" for all the "people who never even bother to call me" to be able to cry "and whatnot", what mattered to her was that you two got to say goodbye to one another, you still feel weird about not going.

It's like, sometimes the decision you've made creeps up on you and leaves this weird feeling behind. You can't really describe it; it's not anxiety, not anger nor sadness or sorrow, it's... different.

Deep down, you know damn well that part of the reason why (if not the entire reason why) you've decided against attending the funerals was so that Luna's passing wouldn't be so... real. You don't have to process something you haven't seen with your own eyes and, well, you've decided not to see her coffin, therefore, you don't have to process and accept shit.

It would have been too hard for you to bear the sight of her coffin, it already is too damn hard without it. You miss her every single day, you still call her phone just so that you can hear her voice when you reach her voicemail.

You got scared, that's why you didn't go. You couldn't bear to face the fact that the woman who loved and cared for you like her own daughter is gone, that she won't be knocking on your door no matter how hard part of your mind still believes she will, that she won't be calling you anymore, that you won't be hearing her laugh and her awful puns anymore.

You can't bear the fact that you've lost the woman who was there to pick you up off the ground when your mother left you all alone, the woman who stayed up all night telling you how much she loved you after you'd been told you'll never be able to conceive a child. You can't bear the fact that you've lost the woman you saw as your hero and striven to become, it's too much and it hurts like nothing else ever did.

" **H** ey, where d'you go, sweetheart?" you hear Daryl softly ask you and you realize you've been tearing up when a strayed tear rolls down on the bridge of your nose and down on Daryl's forearm due to your position, "[Y/n], c'mon, talk to me."

You give a quick, teary smile that he probably can't see, before giving his hand a small squeeze, " **I** 'm here, just- Sorry, I got lost in my head- Sorry."

" **Y** 'wanna talk about it?"

" **N** ah, it's alright, promise." you say just before audibly swallowing down the big lump in your throat, something Daryl catches but decides against commenting on.

Silently, you push yourself further back against him and tighten your grip on his fingers and, at that, he brings his right arm, which your head is laying on, up and turn you around so that you're facing one another but he doesn't say a word, just push you right back against him, his right hand now cradling your head into his chest and you nuzzle into his warmth.

Your arms are folded between yours and Daryl's chest, your balled up hands resting below your chin as you rest your forehead against his chest, your eyes closed and, purely out of habit, your right leg finds its way between Daryl's legs and he happily lets you settle against him, sealing the deal with a kiss to the crown of your head.

" **I** love you, Daryl, more than anything." you softly whisper into his shirt but the words reach him loud and clear and he can't help but tug you impossibly closer to him at that.

" **I** love you too, sweetheart, so goddamn much. I know I don't say it enough- S'just that, it scares the hell outta me."

" **M** 'scared t-too." you quietly confess.

" **I** know." he leans down a little, careful not to crush you, and places a lingering kiss on your forehead before whispering right against your skin, " **B** ut you ain't gotta be, y'know why?"

" **W** -why?"

"' **C** ause you'll always be my girl." he pulls away from you a little when you lift your head up, your chin now resting on his chest, to look up at him with glossy eyes.

" **P** romise?" you ask in a whisper, your voice shaky and unsure.

" **P** romise." his voice is firm, leaving no room for doubt, but his eyes are soft on yours and that's all you need to know he's actually making you a promise and not just saying that.

A few minutes pass and you both agree to resume your night of sleep now that Merle is safely back home though you have a couple of questions he'll need to answer in the morning.

Like clock-work, the second you and Daryl settle back into the still warm mattress and beneath the sheets, you hear a loud thud coming from the living room which is quickly followed by a loud and an aggravated grunt and you both laugh at the older brother's expense as you both take an easy educated guess and presume that Merle must have fallen off the couch and went straight back to sleep on the carpet as he usually does in those scenarios.

The last thing you remember before a deep sleep claimed you once again is Daryl pushing you further into his chest, his left arm still draped over your hip and his right hand resting at the back of your head as if he's afraid you'll slip away if he doesn't hold on to you.

 

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Absently sipping on your whiskey, letting the strong alcohol slip down throat before the sweetness of the honey you've put in it comes down to smooth the bitter taste, you push a deep sigh out as you toy with the label on the sticky pot of honey you've brought back from a supply run back when you were with August and his group.

Your eyes fall on your right wrist, more specifically on the brand new bracelet hugging it and a small, sad smile tugs at your lips as you reach out and barely graze it with the very tip of your fingers, almost afraid it might not be real.

The supple elastic band of the bracelet is covered by small baby pink marble pearls, five of them, right in the middle, are each aggravated with a white letter, all coming together to spell "ROBIN".

You bit down on your lip when you remember saying goodbye to the little girl, the way she told you she was going to miss you, the way she hugged you and ended up crying in your arms, forcing her grandmother, Astrid, to take her away from you because she didn't want to let go and you had to go before night fall.

God, the way she cried out when you opened the door to leave her house and begged for you to wait up as she wiggled out of Astrid's hold and ran to her room before running back to you and slipping the bracelet on your wrist, hugging you and whispering that, that way, you'll never forget about her.

You told her that you never could, bracelet or not, and had to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from bursting into tears, knowing it'll only make walking away even more difficult.

You can't get over the pain you felt when you've walked out of the small gated community, the way your heart clenched and almost made you double-over with pain at the pressure you felt in your chest.

Lost in your contemplation, you jump when the scruffy sound of a throat clearing brings you back to the instant and your head snaps up only to find Negan leaning against the doorway, watching you with a cocky smirk and a glint in his eyes, his hands in his pockets, Lucille nowhere to be found.

" **H** -hey." you shyly whisper before looking back down, your cheeks burning when your brain reminds you that he's pulled the damn plushy you've always made a point of keeping to yourself and let you sleep with it whilst sharing a bed with him and oh mY gOD.

" **H** ey yourself, darlin'." he greets back with that smirk of his before pushing himself off the door frame and walking into the room, silently taking a sit next to you.

You can't possibly drop your head any lower so you settle on focusing on the drink in your hands when he settles on the stool next to you, your brain immediately trying to brace itself for any comments Negan might very well be about to make.

You've already had enough going on and messing with your head, the last thing you needed was for him to look through your personal belongings and pull your goddamned plushy out. God, you can image the look on his face when he found it and it's driving you insane.

" **W** atcha got there, kitten?" he curiously looks at the content in the thick glass wrapped in your fingers and his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he realizes that it's whiskey, " **Y** ou drinkin' whiskey, baby girl?"

" **Y** -yes?" you answer in a whisper, unsure if maybe you weren't supposed to touch that alcohol, just now realizing that it might be Negan's stash but the low whistle he lets out tells you that you have nothing to be worried about.

" **T** hatta girl. Damn." you see one of his hands reaching across the counter to grab the bottle of amber liquid and then hear him moving around so you look up to see that he's now standing on the other side of the little island bar, ruminating through the cabinet where he keeps his glasses before pulling one like yours out, " **M** ind a little company, sweetheart?"

You quickly look back down when he shots you that smirk of his and simply shrug your shoulders dismissively, trying to act as if you don't actually love the idea of drinking with him, " **S** 'your stuff, do whatever you want." you mumble under your breath.

You hear him chuckle and feel your cheeks burning, embarrassed by your failed attempt with the nonchalant attitude.

Silence falls over the room and settles between the two of you, the only sounds that can be heard being when Negan takes a sit back on the stool next to you, his glass hitting the hard wood of the bar and the alcohol being poured down into it. The moment Negan settles the bottle back down on the counter with a soft thud, that's that; the silence takes completely over, pure and complete silence.

You both sit there, enjoying each other's company without feeling the need to fill the silence with small talk, sipping on your drink and you can't help but giggle when you see him bringing his glass up to his lips at the exact same time as you, the two of you in perfect sync.

The happy little noise catches his attention and he chuckles when he looks at you and realizes what you're giggling about. Returning to your drink, you see Negan eyeing the bottle of honey sitting on your side of the bar, and you have to lean back slightly not to make contact with him when he leans your way to get a hold of it.

" **T** hat yours, kitten?" he asks, eyeing the sticky substance in the transparent bottle in his hands like he's never seen honey before.

" **Y** -yes, I uh- I got it on a supply run when I was a the Shore- With August's group."

" **M** y girl's a sugar kinda gal, uh?" he teases with a small smirk, making you laugh a little.

" **Y** up." you say, letting the "p" pop out and getting a chuckle out of Negan.

_man, gotta love that sound._

You feel your cheeks burning when you snap out of your reverie and realize that you've been starring at the man like a school girl with a crush for a few solid seconds now.

" **W** hy's it here, sweet girl?" he asks not even bothering to hide his amusement at your expanse.

" **I** uh- I put some in my whiskey sometimes." you simply say, shrugging as you keep your eyes fixed on the amber liquid in your glass, your right wrist twirling around to make the alcohol move into the curve of the glass.

" **W** hiskey and honey, uh?"

" **M** y dad-" you stop, biting the inside of your cheek before bringing your left hand around your glass, now cupping it with both hands, " **M** y dad drank it that way... Guess I just... picked up on it, you know?" you let out a small, nervous-ish laugh before bringing your drink up to your lips and taking a long sip, almost downing it.

" **E** asy there, sweetheart." Negan says, his voice cooing, as he brings a single finger down on the butt of your glass and push it down and away from your lips.

His eyes watch with great interest when a little bit of the amber liquid rolls past your lips down to your chin at the unexpected withdraw of the glass, " **H** ey," you whine, not even bothering to wipe the alcohol that dripped past your lips, "I was drinking that?" you protest, a clear question in your voice.

" **N** ah, you were downing it like some cheap Vodka, baby girl."

" **O** h, my God." you sigh out, clearly aggravated, " **S** 'not like you worked hard for these anyways, Negan. Or anything, really." you finish, mumbling under your breath.

You frown when you realized that you've just snapped at him for no real reason other than that you're in a snappy mood today but he doesn't say anything, which only serves to piss you off some more for some reason.

Ignoring the irritation bubbling inside you, you silently slid your drink on the slick counter, letting it slid to Negan, your glass clinging against his and he shots an eyebrow up at you, " **D** on't knock it 'for you try it, right?" you playfully say, making him grin and shake his head in amusement, " **C** 'mon. What? Afraid it'll be too sweet for your cold, bitter interior? That it? Big bag Negan doesn't do "sweet"?" you tease though your timidity is quick to catch up to you and make your cheeks burn but you don't back down, just painfully swallow the lump of nerves in your throat.

" **O** h, kitten, we both know I love sweet." his voice is lower than it has any right to be in your opinion and the fact that he's looking directly at you as he speaks doesn't really help calm the ache you're starting to feel between your thighs, " **B** ut I do most definitely appreciate it more with a lil' bitterness on the side." again, he's clearly talking about you.

His heavy gaze on you is making you feel like you're melting on your stool and his voice is so low you feel it vibrating on your skin.

" **B** et you do." you whisper, more to yourself than to him but your words still reach him and you can hear the fucker smirk, making your skin crawl only not with anger or frustration but with something else, something completely different and foreign to you.

Silently, Negan takes a sip of your drink and you can't help but blush when you realize that he has no problem whatsoever drinking from the same glass as you but you decide not to dwell on it too much, unsure of what's happening to your body and mind at the moment.

" **H** ey, s'not bad." he decides with a teasing smirk before settling the glass back on the counter and carefully sliding it back over to you with the tip of a single finger.

" **Y** ou love it." you tease with a small smile, happy to feel the air in the room becoming breathable again, before playfully bumping into his left shoulder with your right one and you're rewarded with a deep chuckle from him.

" **L** ove's a strong word, honey."

" **W** ow," you start with a small laugh, looking back down at your drink before taking a sip of it, finishing it, "that afraid of commitment, uh?" you joke but you both know that; part of you is genuinely afraid he might actually be.

" **D** amn, kitten, you're tryin' to rip me a new one today or...?"

" **Y** eah, that'll teach you to look through my stuff." you mumble under your breath.

Silently, you reach over to fetch the whiskey and pour yourself some more but one of Negan's giant hand engulfs your much smaller one the second it touches the neck of the bottle before gently peeling it away, making you whine in protest, "[ **Y** /n], baby girl, look at me."

" **U** h-uh." you vigorously shake your head and clamp your lips together, part of you finding it way too hard to actually disobey him which you're not comfortable with if you're being honest.

" **D** arlin'-" he lets go of your hand and, almost immediately, you try for the bottle of alcohol sitting right in front of you on the counter, taunting you, but, once again, Negan's hand snatches yours away from it and, with a speed that makes your head spin and disorients you a little bit, he brings one of his hands beneath your jaw, lifts your head up and carefully turn it his way so that you're looking at him.

" **N** ow, you listen to me, sweetheart." he orders, his voice is a little too serious for your liking, making you feel small, like a goddamn child getting scold, " **Y** ou really think I didn't know you had some shit goin' on after I spoke to you for the first time?" the hand he's not using to hold your right one with, the one you've tried to grab the whiskey with, comes up to cup your cheek, " **I** 'm gonna need you to trust me when I say I want nothin' more than for you to feel comfortable enough to stop holding back around me, alright? 'Cause, I don't give a fuck. You really think that I'll think less of you because I know you're hanging on to a goddamn plushy? It doesn't fuckin' work like that, kitten." he tries to reassure you, you can tell, but his voice is so rough it's sending you mixed signals and messing with your head a little.

" **H** ey, [y/n]', it doesn't." he insists, clearly sensing your hesitation to believe him, " **N** othing'll ever change the fact that I know damn well what you're capable of when you're out there, baby girl." he slightly tilts his head to meet your eyes but you keep on running away from his, " **L** ook, [y/n], I'm real fuckin' sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, alright? But- Fuck, all I could think about was how you were finally lettin' yourself be around me, that shit is actually fuckin' important to me, baby girl, believe it or not, 'cause I don't ever want you to feel like you've gotta hide from me."

You can't keep the sob bubbling into your chest in anymore and let it out with a hiccup that makes your chest hurt and, before you know it, Negan has stood up, turned your stool around and his arms are wrapped around you. Instinctively, you push your body against Negan's, hiding your face into his chest, craving a comfort, a sense of safety, that only him can provide you with and let your legs find their place on his waist.

" **S** 'not- S'not just about th-the stupid pl-plushy, okay? I just- I don't- I don't wanna be treated like a porcelain doll, Negan." you mumble into his chest, your words barely understandable due to the fact that you're squished against the man's body.

" **O** h, I know, princess, I know. And I've never intended on that. Though, you'll always be my baby girl." he teases, making you giggle against him and you look up at him with watery eyes, your chin resting on his chest, " **I** don't want you to think that giving into the things you need is gonna change goddamn thing, darlin', 'cause it fuckin' won't, at least, not for the worst. If anythin', it'll make shit easier for both of us and you'll still be a fuckin' ass-kickin', name-takin' lil' shit and you sure as hell still will be my lil' princess which I want nothing more but to take care of." he leans down a little, his lips brushing yours when he gets close enough, " **I** f she'd let me, that is. The girl's fucking stubborn as shit, you wouldn't believe."

" **W** onder where she got it from." you whisper with a small smile, making Negan chuckle.

" **I** should probably be offended by such accusations but, I can't lie, I really fuckin' like the idea of you takin' somethin' after me." he leaves a quick but tender kiss on your lips before pecking the tip of your nose, making you giggle, " **Y** ou're [y/n], a scary as all fuckin' hell lil' badass who happens to be just as terrifyingly loving and soft." he sees you biting down on your lower lip at that and he carefully free the poor piece of flesh from the death grip your teeth have on it with his thumb, smiling when you blush at the gesture, " **A** lso very hot, can't forget to say real fuckin' hot." he chuckles when you whine and blush some more at the comment.

" **S** hut up." you shyly mumble under your breath, squirming around on your stool and adverting your eyes from his.

" **J** ust relax, princess." his voice makes you lose all train of thought and your body almost immediately melts in his hold and he tightens his embrace when he feels you shifting and relaxing against him, " **I** want you to be comfortable with the things you need, alright? You don't have to hide shit from me, princess. You're safe with me and you know I'll take care of you, right? Anything you need, anything you want, you know I got you, kitten."

There's a small moment of silence and Negan watches as the gears in your head are clearly trying to work this whole thing out, " **H** ow about; whenever you feel like it, you come around and let me know, yeah? No pressure, just you and me and it all stays between us, fuck everything else."

" **J** -Just you and me." you repeat barely above a whisper, making Negan smile.

" **H** ell yeah, baby girl, s'always just you and me. You know, we could make this shithole," he starts referring to his quarters, "a place where you can feel safe because, you do realize that I'm not letting you go back to livin' with all the other shitheads in this place, right, kitten? I'm keepin' you with me this time around." he says, clearly not giving a damn if you're with the program or not; he's not asking, **he's telling you**  and you hate that you don't mind.

" **Y** -yeah... You say that now but you'll get sick of me in a week." you say with a dry, clearly sad laugh, "People always say that and th-then they leave because it's t-too much." your voice is barely above a whisper but your words reach Negan loud and clear, " **I** 'm either too sensitive or I don't care enough, I c-cry too much or I'm an insensitive bitch, I d-don't talk enough a-and- and when I do people get annoyed or frustrated with me-" he can tell that you're struggling to get the words out. You quickly hide away against his chest, knowing you won't be able to keep the words you're about to spill out from slipping out, so you settle on not looking at him, bracing for impact, " **P** eople don't w-want to have to d-deal with a broken thing like me. You're better off with those women, I can't-" a sob rips through you, making your entire body shake on the bar stool, " **I** can't give you what you need, Negan, alright? I just- It's too complicated, okay?"

" **S** 'that what you want, darlin'?" his voice is so soft, so calm that it makes you pull away from his chest to look up at him and he looks like you've just punched him in the guts.

" **N** -no," you let out a sad, nervous laugh, "but- Isn't it pointless to ask you to let me be yours when we both know you've got other... things, going on?" you sniffle before forcing a smile, " **I** c-can't- I can't be yours when I know c-clear as day that y-you'll never be mine, too."

Negan is about to speak but your head snap up in sync with his when you hear heavy footsteps coming towards the breaking room.

Simon appear in the doorway and he flashes you a smile and a friendly wink before turning his attention to Negan, " **H** ey, so, we're ready to go if y'are?"

That picks your interrest and you look at Negan with squinted eyes, confused and curious which he immediatly notices.

Dropping his head, the leader of the Saviors clears his throat before looking back at you and then his man, " **B** e right down, just give us a sec."

Simon is quick to understand that Negan probably hasn't told you about the supply run at Hilltop and silently leaves the two of you alone again with nod.

" **S** o...?" you ask, wiping your tears away and giving Negan a small smile, letting him know you're not holding a grudge, making him let out a breathy chuckle.

" **L** ook, sweetheart, we've got some a... collect due today and-"

" **I** t's Hilltop?" you guess, the way he speaks ever-so-carefully is a dead giveaway and, surely enough, he tilts his head, one of his eyebrows quirking up at your intuitions and looks at you before nodding, " **W** h-why didn't you tell me?"

"' **C** ause I know you're having a shit time as it is, didn't want to make shit worst for ya. I actually was looking for you to talk to you about it but- Well, I kinda got sidetracked."

You absently nod, a light frown carving your forehead, " **C** an-Can I come too?"

" **B** aby-"

" **P** romise I'll be good. I-I'll listen and-and I'll stay c-close to you and-"

" **A** nd, [y/n]-" he cuts you off, framing your face with his hands and you immediately go quiet, looking at him like a dear caught in headlights, " **S** weetheart, it's okay. If-" he lets out a deep sigh, " **I** f you're really feelin' up for it then, sure, you can tag along-"

" **T** hank you!" you squeal out, clapping your hands and, good God, you should be embarrassed but you can't be bothered right now; you're going to see Jesus again. 

" **A** lright then." Negan chuckles before giving your forehead a kiss, " **L** et's get go get ya into your boots, grab your shit and a jacket then we'll head out."

And, the second he finishes his sentence, you jump off your stool and run out of the room to his apartment, too excited not even bother waiting up for him and completely ignoring how sore your body is, " **N** o runnin' in the halls, baby girl." he shouts behind you with a chuckle but you're already inside his apartment when he finishes his sentence.

When Negan walks out of the room to join you, he spots Simon, his head tilted curiously after he's seen you run into Negan's office, waiting for the leader of the community to catch up to him, hands in his pockets.

" **H** ey, just gotta check on [y/n], make sure she's ready to roll and we'll be right there." Negan announces as he keeps on walking down the hall to his apartment, Simon walking alongside him.

" **H** ey," the Savior suddenly comes to a stop, making the leader of the group stop in his tracks as well and turn around to look at his man, a little annoyed.

" **W** hat?"

" **Y** ou sure this is a good idea? I mean, takin' the girl out so soon after she just got back? She's gotta be tired."

" **W** e're going to fuckin' Hilltop, what the hell d'you think s'gonna happen to her?" he scoffs, " **D** oesn't fuckin' matter anyway, I'll take care of her, you worry about yourself and getting the others dickwads ready, got it?"

" **N** egan, what if something happens to her? I mean, c'mon, man, she's clearly exhausted. She probably ain't even thinkin' straight."

" **W** hat's your fuckin' point, Simon?" Negan's voice is lower now, colder and he can feel his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing at the man in front of him.

" **I** 'm just sayin', last time she went out all tired and shit, that whole "Jason" shit happened-"

A dry, cold laugh leaves the Saviors' leader, making Simon stop when he realizes he probably shouldn't have gone there but what's done is done, " **Y** ou really- Alright, listen, I'm gonna be real fuckin' nice and forget that you've just said what you've just fuckin' said and you're gonna walk the fuck away and do as you've been fuckin' ordered, Simon, before I end up breaking your fucking nose."

" **S** ure thing." is the only answer Negan gets, Simon's voice and body language calm as he walks past his boss and leaves his quarters, doing as told.

An heavy sigh leaves Negan the second the heavy doors of his headquarters close behind Simon's back, the man's words suddenly reminding him that; what happened to you a few weeks ago had already happened a few months back with Jason and he can feel his entire body tensing at the memory.

It's like he's been hit by a tone of bricks, he can't believe he almost forgot about that son of a bitch and he suddenly is even more worried about you because, really; how the fuck are you handling this shit?

You can't possibly be okay, not when you've been left all by yourself to deal with this shit, twice now, mind you, and he sure as shit has never been a big moral support for you, that's for fucking sure.

He cringes when he remembers how he handled the situation when he found you after Jason took you away, he remembers looking for you, finding Jason and most of his men dead when he got there and you nowhere to be found.

In his head, it's like seeing that you handled the situation all by yourself meant that you didn't need help handling the possible aftermath of it all, no need to talk about it, no need to dwell on it, or so he liked to believe because he was fucking terrified to think about what that shit must have done to you.

He can't fucking believe he never actually took the goddamn time to sit you down and have a much needed conversation about what happened.

Sure, you came to him, cried about it, told him the short of what actually did happen back at Jason's camp but he always pushed the thought that maybe, just maybe, you crying about it for a few minutes and quickly going over what happened meant that you were over it, no harm no foul.

It doesn't fucking work like that though, talking and crying about it for two minutes doesn't actually mean that what happened didn't leave a scar, one you're still baring to this day, nor that you're magically over it and trauma isn't a thing that hit you like a bus.

With a heavy sigh, Negan forces his body to relax a little before walking the rest of the way down the hall to his bedroom and open the door of his office.

"[ **Y** /n], darlin'." he starts the second the door clicks shut in front of him, " **Y** ou ready to head out-" Negan trails off as he takes a step into the room and his eyes land on you, finding you knelled down in front of the empty chimney in his office, the ashes of the pictures you've burned this morning laying in a cold pile in the middle of the half-consumed thick logs of woods in the fireplace.

Your head snap around to look at him and you give him a small smile, nervously tugging at your fingers before dropping your gaze down, " **Y** -yes, I uh- I'm ready." you quietly say, " **A** -are you?"

" **Y** eah, baby, I'm all set." his voice is gentle as he approaches you and comes to crouch down next to you, bringing your face up to his with two fingers beneath your chin, " **H** ey, darlin', what's wrong?"

" **N** o-nothing I just-" you let out a nervous giggle, " **I** t's d-dumb but-" a shaky sigh slips past your lips and you have to blink your tears away, " **I** 'm k-kinda nervous, I-I guess?"

" **Y** ou know you don't have to come, right? You could always stay here, promise I'll be back as soon as I can, baby."

You silently look up at him, your eyes shinning with fresh tears, ready to spill, your cheeks burning under his gaze and you give him a small, tired smile and you feel yourself blushing furiously when he winks at you, your reaction pulling yet another chuckle out of him, " **A** w, do I make you nervous, kitten?" he teases with a smirk and you swear your face is about to melt under the heat.

" **N** -no?"

" **S** 'that a question, baby girl?" there's that laugh in his voice and it doesn't help you get your bearings, not at all actually.

" **S** -st-stop-Stop making f-fun of me." you couldn't possibly drop your head any lower if you tried.

_turtles definitely don't know how freaking lucky they are... why can't we tug our heads in, uh?_

The two fingers Negan has resting beneath your chin bring your head back up and you let out a nervous giggle when you see that he's right fucking there, his breath hitting your lips and the tip of your noses touching when your head comes up.

" **I** 'd never make fun of ya, kitten, m'just teasin' is all. I love when you get all flustered because of me." with that damn smirk of his still plastered on the corner of his mouth, he leans down towards you and capture your lips in a kiss, not letting you say anything back to him.

The kiss is fairly innocent, as innocent as anything Negan does can get, really, but you can't help the needy whimper that escape your parted lips only to be swallowed in the kiss, your hands blindly reaching up to tug at his shirt, clinging to the fabric like a cat digging its claws into a curtain.

You break the kiss and let your forehead rest against his, closing your eyes as you speak, " **I** -" you trap your poor kiss-swollen bottom lip between your sharp teeth, a single tear rolling down your face which you're quick to wipe away with a nervous giggle, rolling your eyes at yourself, " **I** 'm scared, Negan." you admit, dropping your head down like you have something to be ashamed of.

You need rest, it's evident even to him, " **H** ey," he brings your head up with two gentle fingers under your chin, "that's alright, baby girl. You've got a lot of shit goin' on so- I'm gonna be honest with you here, angel, I'd much rather have you here, safe, and know that you're resting rather than out there, not able to focus a hundred percent on what you're doing. I know it's hard, [y/n], but I ain't takin' a chance if you ain't gonna be a hundred percent there once where out there-"

" **N** -No, no, no. Pl-Please- Please don't l-leave me alone." the way your voice is shaking leaves no room for Negan to find your stuttering adorable as he usually does, it just plain hurts to see you afraid of the idea of him leaving you behind.

" **H** ey, [y/n], baby," he coos, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek, " **I** 'm not leavin' you, alright? I promise. Just want you to be safe so you're gonna have to be good and listen to me, alright, sweetheart?" you nod your head so fast the room goes a little blurry for a second, " **A** lright, go get your boots, baby girl. And grab my jacket, you ain't leaving without it, don't want you to catch what you ain't got, sweetheart." he says before leaning towards you and planting a kiss on your forehead, making your eyes flutter at the soft gesture, " **B** e right there, gotta go take a piss first."

_what a delicate little flower this man is..._

You bit down on your lower lip, watching as Negan makes his way to his bedroom, whistling as he does, and you stand up off the floor when you hear the door of his bathroom clicking shut.

Your cheeks are so hot it actually hurts your over-sensitive skin but you can't help feeling a little giddy at the fact that he wants to make sure you won't be cold while you're out there. Sure, it's a small detail, but that's more than enough to show than he actually does give a damn.

_is it? stop getting your hopes up, girl, seriously. will you ever learn?_

Thing is; this is no "small" little detail when it comes to Negan simply because he never gave a shit about anyone like he does when it comes to you. One may argue he cares too much. It's no secret to anyone around him that the man is highly protective, if not overly so, of you though you're completely oblivious to it.

Part of your stubborn self wants to protest and declare war against whatever jacket Negan wants to wrap around you but the most reasonable part of you knows that it's probably for the best to cover up even though it's sunny and quite warm outside because, really, your body is way too weak at the moment to fend off any bacteria and the likes.

With a small, silent sigh, you make your way over to Negan's bedroom to grab and put your boots on and, as if on cue, the second you step into the room, you hear the toilet being flushed, the tap opening, water running, and squeaking close before the door of the bathroom swings open to reveal a still whistling Negan and he immediately flashes that smirk of his when he spots you sitting on his bed, bend down as you slip your heavy black combat boots on and lace them up before straightening back up with a huff.

" **H** ow're we doin', darlin'?" he asks, his eyes watching you cautiously as you turn on the mattress to face him, hoisting your right leg up on the bed and letting the other planted on the floor.

" **I** 'm alright." you keep your answer short, simple, the quivering in your voice making it hard for Negan and yourself to actually believe that you are and, truth be told; you're not, not at all.

" **A** lright, then." he lets out with an heavy sigh, your mind taking the opportunity to remind you of just how annoying and irritating you are to everyone around you and insisting on the fact that Negan is probably getting fed up with you at this point.

_give me a fucking break, would ya?_

You silently watch as Negan makes his way to his office, turning around when he doesn't feel you behind him only to find you still sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him with doe eyes, and he chuckles before nodding his head, silently telling you to come along.

It's almost embarrassing how quick you are to follow the silent order and get up off the bed to trot up to him in his office, only stopping when you're right in front of him and, acting on pure impulse, you wrap your arms around his much bigger frame and let your head settle against his chest, your right cheek squished against it.

To your surprise, Negan's quick to return the embrace, his arms engulfing you completely as he pushes you even further into him, bending his neck to press a kiss in your messy locks before running a hand through them, the touch making you purr into his chest and you hear him smiling down at you but you simply focus on his touch and try not to embarrass yourself any further.

_ah! good one._

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 **2:17** **PM** **//**

The rumble of the truck, the sound of the giant, heavy tires crushing the road beneath them and the low music coming from the tape player are the only thing filling the space in the cabin of Negan's truck.

Your body gets softly rocked every now and then with the movement of the vehicle, your knees brought up to your chest with your feet resting on the bench seat you're sitting on, your head resting on them as you absently watch the road ahead and feel Negan's eyes on you every once in a while.

You sometimes catch sight of one of Negan's men driving past you on a bike, none of them ever going too far away. Negan, being the leader and all, is opening the way and Simon is way behind, closing it, making sure everyone is keeping up and staying in line.

You're wrapped into Negan's leather jacket, silently loving wearing something of his, having his smell all over you, surrounding you, making it feel like a bubble is protecting you.

He was right to insist on you covering up a little more than the others and your stubborn, hard-headed self quickly came crawling back to her senses the second you stepped outside of the compound and felt the air, which is actually kind of warm today, bitting your skin like a bunch of little blades.

You were right too. Your body is way too weakend to be able to properly protect you and you quickly realized that it also means that it's way too tired to keep itself warm on its own like it's supossed to.

It's almost like you don't have any body warmth whatsoever and you must rely on clothes and such to do the job until your body recovers from the exhaustion its been pushed to.

A small smile breaks out across your lips when you hear "Bad company" playing on the radio and you immediatly reach over the console to turn the volume up, Negan smiling as he watches you from the corner of his eyes.

" **B** ad company, uh? S'an old song, baby girl."

" **I** love that song, my dad used to make me listen to his music all the time and Bad Company was one of his favorite bands, that song is my favorite of theirs, I love the instrumental and-" you stop, realizing that you're probably talking too much and you can feel your cheeks heating up when Negan chuckles.

" **Y** ou're too fuckin' adorable, kitten." he teases with a smirk and you scofff, propping your right arm on the border of the window beside you, keeping your focus on the road, " **W** hat else?" he asks, making your head roll on the headrest on which its heavily, lazily resting, to look at him, confusion marking your features and he laughs when he catches sight of it, " **W** hat else d'you like, darlin'. Spill the beans." he instincts with a grin.

" **I** uh-" you clear your throat, taking aback by the question but gathering your thoughts to string words together and give the man a damn answer, " **I** used to listen to Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, Pearl Jam- Lots of Pearl Jam, my dad was freaking mental over their music." you hear Negan chuckle at that and your eyes lit up at the sound as you can't help but mimic it, though yours is more high-pitched and softer than his, " **D** epeche Mode, Bon Jovi, Metallica sometimes- Gosh, we used to play The Cash super loudly in the living room, jumping around the place like a bunch of maniacs... I loved it, their music used to drive me insane, like "I just dropped my head in cocaine and drank a whole pot of coffee" kind of insane."

" **T** he things I'd give to fuckin' see it." Negan laughs, a smirk on his face but it's not an especially cocky one, it's just there, resting on the corner of his mouth like that's just the way it's shaped, a little crooked to the side, " **O** n a more serious note now," your smile almost drops at that but you can't detect any seriousness in Negan's voice so you simply shuffle on your sit, bring your legs closer to your chest and drop your head on your knees, letting it rest there as you watch him drive, " **F** avorite song, and you only get to pick one, darlin'."

" **A** w, c'mon! S'not fair." you whine, not meaning to, the sound just slipping away from you and making your cheeks burn in embarrassment once it's been thrown out in the open for Negan to hear loud and clear, " **D** on't." you warn him and you internally curse at yourself for letting your voice sound so quiet and small.

" **I** didn't say anythin'." Negan protests with an amused grin and a barely contained chuckled.

" **Y** ou were about to! And you're laughing at me!"

" **F** avorite song, doll." again, you scoff but don't say anything as you rack your brain for an answer you'll be happy with.

In that moment, you're so giddy about sharing this kind of moment with Negan that you completely forget to scold him for calling you "doll", it's like your brain doesn't register it the same way anymore, " **O** kay... So, "Hotel California", by Eagles? Definitely up there."

" **D** amn... You're makin' me feel like a fuckin' dinosaur over here, darlin'." you giggle, biting down on your lower lip as you continue to watch him, his focus drifting back and forth between you and the road in front of him, " **T** hey used to play that damn song at every goddamn fuckin' prom night back then- Jesus fuck, I feel old as shit."

" **Y** ou went to prom?" you ask, your entire body showing that your interest has been picked and that makes Negan chuckle next to you.

" **W** ell, kitten, my dear sweet lil' innocent thing," the way he pronounces those words, lifting his head up high as he does, gets a laugh out of you and his grin gets a little wider at the sound, "you see, I used to go to prom to get shitfaced and laid thanks to the dudes that'd dump their dates in the middle of the fuckin' night, leaving them to seek a shoulder to cry on. That's when yours truly came to the rescue, if you didn't get that." he whispers the last part like he's telling you a secret and, though you can feel that uncomfortable feeling that is jealousy tugging at your guts, it still gets a small laugh out of you.

" **Y** ou're lucky enough to go to prom and **that's** ," there's clear disgust and disappointment in your voice as you empathize the word, "what you decide to do with your night? You're unbelievable."

He chuckles at that before turning his attention away from the road and over to you, " **A** w, c'mon, what d'you do, darlin'?"

" **M** e? Well, I uh- I was too young, didn't make it that far."

There's a small moment of silence and it's almost as if you can see the gears in Negan's head turning and clicking together, " **F** uck- Shit, right- My bad, tend to forget you're still a baby." the last word is dipped in cockiness as he looks at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and the smirk on his lips making you feel like punching him straight in the nose just to feel it break under your fist.

" **A** aand, you've ruined it." you joke, trying to hide the fact that his words actually got to you.

Other people seeing your young age as something to tease you with is one thing; Negan reminding you how much of an age gap there is between the two of you? You don't like the feeling so much if you're being a hundred percent honest.

You both sink back into a comfortable silence, letting the music play and fill the cabin. Looking at the window by your right, you spot a few walkers here and there but don't see anything worrysome as you drive by, only trees -so many fucking trees- and plain, boring fields that never seem to end and, when they do, it's only to be replace by woods or old burned down houses that have been reclaimed by nature as time went by.

It's kind of cool to see nature reclaiming the place, how unfaced it is by man's doings that have been destroying it for years before this whole thing went down. It's appeasing in its own way, you can't quite put your finger on it though.

You let out a small laugh, Negan's head snapping your way at the sound, and you let your head fall on the hand you have propped up on window of the passenger's side, " **H** ey, so, you know Jesus- Paul? From Hilltop?" Negan hums in acknowledgement, letting you know he sees who you're talking about, " **W** ell, funny thing-" a nervous laugh escapes you, " **T** urns out he's my uncle."

Your eyes nervously find Negan's and you can see he's looking at you like you've just grown a second head, " **W** ell, shit balls." is the only answer you get and, again, you let out another nervous giggle, " **I** mean- Damn, what the hell?"

" **Y** -yeah... Something like that." you shrug, unsure of what to say now so you settle on watching the road in front of you.

" **T** hat why you wanted to come with us, today, princess?" he asks, his voice oddly soft, and you give him a nod, " **H** uh... Can't believe I'm banging baby girl Rovia." he says oh so casually, chuckling when you punch his shoulder.

" **Y** ou're not, actually." you state matter-of-fact-ly, making Negan grin in both surprise and pride at your sudden confidence.

" **O** oh, someone's feelin' brave, huh?" he teases, watching your eyes shine happily before letting his own wander over your face.

" **W** atch the road, boss."

He chuckles but listens to you and settles his focus back on the road though, soon enough, his right hand leaves the wheel and curiously reaches out to slightly turn your head so he can get a clear look on the bruises and wounds covering the delicate skin of your face, his eyes completely abandoning the road and you have to pretend not to be freaking the fuck out.

You can feel him tensing underneath you, his grip on your jaw getting a little firmer as he takes it all in; the deep bruises, the still healing wounds, the cuts here and there and the stitches on your left brow and in the hollow of your right cheek.

" **H** ow're you feelin', kitten?" he asks out of genuine concern as his eyes finally settle on yours.

You let out a nervous giggle, suddenly feeling like you're getting crushed by the weight of everything that happened in the past months, " **L** ike you sh-should be watching the freaking road."

Again, he chuckles though it's not as wholeheartly as the one he gave you seconds ago and lets his hand slip away from your face before bringing his eyes back to the road ahead.

" **H** -honestly? I feel like crap." you confess after a few seconds of heavy silence, your voice so quiet it's almost covered by the music playing in the cabin, as you nervously bite down on your lower lip, your eyes never staying on one spot, doing their damnedest not to meet Negan's gaze as he shifts it back and forth between you and the damn road, " **I** -I feel like- like I'm all broken and- I dunno, it just- it's just that-" you sigh in defeat, your mouth and mind clearly not willing to work with one another at the moment.

" **C** 'mere, baby girl." his voice is soft as he reaches out for you with his right hand and envelop you in his arm, reaching for the right side of your waist and dragging you across the bench to bring your body flush against the right side of his.

You immediately sigh in relief at the contact and nuzzle into him, letting your head fall in the juncture where his arm meets his shoulder, letting his arm engulf you completely to keep you close and your eyes close as exhaustion hits you hard and you don't even register the tears falling out of your closed lids, dropping on Negan's shirt and soaking the white fabric.

" **S** hit... I know you're way too fuckin' young to be with me but, fuck me if I'm ever lettin' you go." he says, his words completely unexpected but you stay silent and listen to him, " **Y** ou ain't goin' nowhere as long as you're okay bein' right here with me, kitten."

You let out a small, dry laugh, " **Y** ou'll get bored of me eventually but, for now, I think I'm gonna stick around... Running away's getting old and kind of repetitive at this point, anyway." you joke dryly and feel a low chuckle rumbling in Negan's chest at that.

" **W** hy in the holy fucking hell would I ever got bored of ya, darlin'?"

" **B** ecause I'm not six different women- Six different women with experience." you silently say.

" **D** arlin', they're fuckin' gone." he says oh so casually as he grabs the talkie-walkie sitting on the dashboard of the truck with the hand he had on the wheel because he doesn't want to let go of you but you're too busy repeating his words in your head to notice the lack of control on the truck's wheel.

" **O** -Oh... okay." is all your brain can come up with.

_nailed it. yes, ten outta ten. best at words even._

In the distance, you can hear the button on Negan's talkie being pushed down and Simon's voice coming through, the leader of the Saviors asking his right-hand man where to go now that there's a crossroad ahead but the words are all drowned out, like your ears are ringing.

Why are you so anxious all of the sudden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, thank you for reading and, again, thank you SO SO much for your patience. Again, I apologize for the length of this chapter, it's not my shortest but it sure as shit isn't my longest so... Yah, sorry 'bout that.
> 
> Before I say buh-bye, I just wanna let y'all know that, during my break, I've taken the time to edit every single chapters of the story (I didn't change any elements to the story though so, don't worry about that) and I'm waaaayyy happier with it now so, if you've got time to waste, feel free to re-read this crap if you wanna. (apparently, some of you do that a lot... dunno why you'd do this to yourself but, hey, I ain't judging or nothin'... okay, maybe I am a little.)


	28. UPDATE! THE STUPID BITCH IS BACK (...das meh...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this probably is gunna be filled with weird ass spelling and stupid misspelled but if I dwell too much on it I'll puke so... yeah, leave me alone cos I'll cry, I'll cry all over you and yo mama... I'm sorry, I'm sure she's a lovely lady.

HI, YES, HELLO! THE MESSY BITCH IS ALIVE! (thought you got rid of me huh? .... try again in a few months, you'll get there, I believe in you)

 

Okay, but, more seriously: HELLOOOO ANGELS! SO! A bitch's been gone for a lil' while now (a long fucking while) and I kinda hated it?

 

Here the thing; I was in a **very**  fucking bad place, the worst I've been in a long time and it terrified me. Long story short; I feel flat on my fucking face. I couldn't write anymore, I'd get really frustrated whenever I'd try and, in all honesty, I was completely uninspired and unmotivated.

 

Eventually, anxiety got to be too much for me to handle and I had to put a shit-ton of stuff aside, including writing/posting, because my E.D was dragging me waay down too and my health, both psychological and physical, started to go down the fucking gutter (sorry, i'm swearing up a storm o3o).

 

So, yah... I needed a break and some rest. Just so you know, I've been through another surgery in July (I had one July of last year too) and that didn't help with the fatigue BUT! I'm alright, tired but s'all good (◕3◕✿).

 

Alright, **SO** , I'm not gonna go into too much details as to what's happened during the time I've been away 'cause I know A LOT of you are also fighting your own demons like champs ( **and i'm fucking rooting for you, every single one of you** ) so I'll just say this: I was in NO condition to do anything, I've spend most of my days locked away in my bedroom crying and being sick to my stomach with anxiety, my self-harming habits came out full force and my E.D gave me Hell, so... Fun.

 

Now; am I in a better place right now? Yeah? I mean, I'm not where I was last month but I'm fucking exhausted and that's the biggest issue. I'm mentally exhausted, feels like I've ran out of steam when I already was rolling on fumes, y'know? I dunno how else to explain it, I'm just drained. BUT, yes, I am better. Not to best I've ever been but BETTER so it counts for something.

 

 **Yes, I am coming back to writing** BUT, I need to talk to you guys about a thing or two.

 

So, I've always made it clear that I NEVER write about things I don't personally know of whether it'd be mental disorders or whatever else, if I write about it it's because if been through it. Just so you know where I'm coming from; I have been through physical, mental and sexual abuse.

 

Now when I've first started this story, I've barely just begun to talk about it (though, i always seem to get stuck at some point and never got it all out but, hey, one step at the time) and, the reason I'm telling you guys about this is because I need you to understand that it all seriously started to influence my writing.

 

I'd started to put a LOT of my demons out in the things I'd write. Re-reading some of my oldest chapters, they were a little lighter and I've noticed that, as the story progressed, heavier topics have been thrown into the mix because I was going through therapy and things where being pulled out of me. Now; no, I don't think that it's a bad thing to talk about those things but what I do believe **IS** a fucking problem is that I didn't write those things from the perspective of someone who's never been through it; **I was writing it all down as someone who's trauma was catching up to them** and ended up pouring my demons out into my work and it fucking sucks to admit it but I've let them completely consume me and, most importantly, my work, the story you guys would later on read, and, now, I can't fucking stand the though of going back to even spellcheck my last chapters (which, I fucking hate btw) I've already had been pulling it off for weeks before taking my break and it caused me so much fucking distressed.

 

The fact that I, even as of today, can't even think about going back on my OWN work to improve it without getting sickeningly anxious weights so heavy on me, not only because I've never meant for this story to turn into a fucking prison for me but also and mostly because **I don't ever want to cause distress to ANY of you guys** and the fact that even **I** can't fucking read this crap makes me wonder about all of you angels because **I KNOW** that some of you are on the same battle field as me (hi, i see u•3•).

 

 **SO**! I've written... well... something? And I dunno if it'll amount to anything but here's what I wanted to have you guys' opinion on; I've been thinking about starting over with a new story, new plate and all, BUT it'll still have the same undertone (so, ya know, kinky shit, the whole D/S-ish dynamic and all), a lot of the same characters (so, yes, randall will make a comeback and y'all could stop crying over him... myself included) and the same story-line (by that I mean, the goal is still NEGANXOC) BUT written and TIMED differently (still slow burn but nOT TWENTY FUCKING SEVEN CHAPTERS SLOW). I dunno, you guys lemme know.

 

 **NOTHING IS SET THOUGH AND I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT DELETING THIS STORY, I JUST WANNA KNOW IF YOU GUYS WOULD BE DOWN TO GIVE A READ TO THE NEW THINGY I'VE WROTE** , (if so lemme know and I'll create a new story and post a first chapter, ya tell me whatcha think and we'll go from there) **BUT, IF YOU'RE DEAD-SET ON THIS SPECIFIC STORY, I'LL TRY AND FIND A WAY TO REKINDLE IT** (maybe you guys could help if you wanna?)

 

OKAY I'M DONE. I LOVE YOU GUYS, SO FUCKING MUCH. I HOPE YOU'RE ALL SAFE AND SOUND, LIVIN' YOUR BEST LIFE AN'ALL. I'VE ACTUALLY MISSED BEING HERE SO... YEAH, S'GOOD TO BE BACK (ಥ﹏ಥ) ANYWAYS! LEMME WHAT'S NEXT ANGELS! (also we can talk about cookies if you wanna, s'whatever)

 

I LOVE YOOOOOOU!! SMOOOOOOCHES! SMOOCHES ALL OVER YO FACES (ღ˘3˘ღ)

 

_Célia (ya dumb bitch)


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